


Castle in the Clouds

by Ashley_vh



Series: Castle in the Clouds [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Peter, BAMF Stiles, Creepy Evil Peter, F/F, F/M, Fairy Tales/Folk Lore/Stories, Hale House, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Manipulation, Mates, Non-Con Bondage, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Magical Creatures, Pack Dynamics, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Post Season 1, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 90,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_vh/pseuds/Ashley_vh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles jumped as he felt a hand settle on his knee.   His gaze jumped from the hand, to the man’s face.  He shrank back, trying to push the hand off his knee, but claws grew and pushed into the fabric of Stiles’ jeans.</p>
<p>Ice replaced the blood in his veins as the realization set in.  He stopped fighting the hand and turned back to the direction they came, knowing that he wasn’t likely going to see Beacon Hills again.  His eyes burned; Stiles’ blinked away tears before they fell.  “Please.”  He whispered, not looking back at Peter.  “Let me go home.”</p>
<p>Peter didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb sliding back and forth on Stiles’ knee in a gesture that was meant to be soothing, “My decision’s been made, Stiles.”</p>
<p>Stiles frowned, and watched the black, towering figures of the trees fly by.  Resolve replaced the fear and sadness as he thought, ‘so has mine.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 7/26/13

Derek wasn't there.

The basement of the Hale House was empty.

Well, except for the unconscious man on the floor. He was most likely a hunter, but that didn’t matter now. Before the man had even stirred, Peter cut his throat.

What happened after that was kind of a blur. Peter tied Stiles’ wrists together almost tight enough to hurt with a thick rope. He’ll probably have bruises later, but he was too afraid to worry about it now. Stiles sat on the floor of the cold, dank basement as far from the dead hunter as possible around the torture supplies littered around the floor, and Peter patiently cleaned blood out from under his nails.

It felt like years of torturous silence before Stiles finally spoke, “Why am I here? What are you waiting for? What are you going to do with me?”

Peter smirked, not looking up from his claws. “One question at a time, Stiles.” He glanced at the entrance to the basement. “I’m waiting for her.” He spit the word like it was a curse, like he was trying to summon the vile woman to him with the word alone. His smirk grew as he looked at Stiles on the floor, “You’re here,” He said, “Because you’re special.”

“What are you going to do?” Stiles asked, trying to pull his wrists out of the intricate knots around them, nervous under the werewolf’s predatory gaze. “And why am I ‘special?’”

Peter gave him a look.

Stiles huffed and pulled at the rope one more time, wincing as it cut into his skin. “You don’t have to kill her,” he said, twisting his hands. “With all she’s done, she’ll get a life sentence without a doubt.”

The smirk slipped off Peter’s face as he listened to what Stiles said. A deadly calm look replaced it, “She already has a life sentence, Stiles.” Peter’s eyes slicked back to the door, and smiled. His eyes flashed red, and he was gone.

Stiles didn’t have to wait long for him to come back. A gunshot made him flinch back until his back hit the fire-blackened wall. A crash made the floor shake and tiny flecks of the ceiling fell lightly to the floor like snowflakes as the door at the top of the stairs burst inward and a body flew down the decaying stairs and landed hard on the concrete floor in the middle of the basement.

Kate scrambled around for her gun and stood, pointing the weapon in front of her as she turned around, looking for the alpha with blood dripping down her hairline. Her eyes passed over Stiles as she continued her frantic search. “Come on!” She yelled, pointing her gun at the corners of the basement.

Peter appeared beside her, too close for her to shoot anywhere but beside his head. He grabbed her arm and Stiles heard a loud snap and Kate screamed as her arm snapped.

Wincing as the woman was flung across the room like a ragdoll by her broken arm, Stiles shrunk back into the wall, trying to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible as Kate screamed in pain.

Kate didn’t get up this time. She tried to push herself up and fight back, but she was too hurt… there was nothing more she could do. 

“Stiles,” Peter said, making Stiles go still on the floor. He turned, ignoring Kate moaning in pain at his feet. “She’s a killer, Stiles. This is what’s right.” He stepped on Kate’s wrist as she tried to reach forward to the gun that landed a short ways away. Peter looked at the woman. “I think she should apologize.” He said in a dark voice that made Stiles shiver in fear.

Kate screamed as Peter put weight on his foot over her broken arm. She kept screaming, louder and louder, until finally, an apology passes her lips and Peter stepped back. Tears streaked her face as she brought her arms to her chest, protecting it from further pain.

Peter picked up a small bundle of rope like the kind he used to bind Stiles’ hands and pulled Kate roughly to her feet. She tried to pull away, but she wasn’t strong enough to yank back from the alpha’s strength. He pulled her arm away and quickly tied her wrists together, like he did with Stiles, and ignored her screams as he tied it too tightly over her broken bones.

He threw her back down at the base of a pillar, cutting off her scream as the air left her lungs. Peter looped the rope around the thick pillar holding the ceiling up, and tied the other end to her uninjured hand. He stood up and moved heavy looking metal containers Stiles hadn’t noticed before across the floor around the hunter with ease. 

Her heavy breathing echoed in the large room as Peter smirked at her and knocked one of the containers over. The smell of gasoline filled the air and Stiles tried to get away from the liquid on the floor as it spread. He gracelessly pushed himself up and hopped over the trail of gasoline to stand by the base of the stairs, still cowering slightly in fear of all that has happened.

Kate struggled against the ropes that held her, trying to run from the flammable liquid circling her without any of it touching her, but she couldn’t. Peter walked over to Stiles and gently took his elbow before walking toward the exit.

“You’re not just going to leave her here, are you?” Stiles asked, pulling at the alpha’s grip as he stumbled along.

“Of course not Stiles,” Peter said, tightening his grip only enough to keep hold of the arm without hurting Stiles. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a match. “I’m going to light it on fire first.”

Stiles’ eyes widened at the sight of the match and Kate screamed as she pulled a little too hard at her broken wrist. Peter pulled Stiles behind him as he held the match to the wall; he stared at Kate struggling on the floor for a moment with a small smile on his face.

The sound of the match striking against the ruined wood made Stiles go cold. He tried to reach for Peter, trying to stop him, but it was too late. Peter threw the match into the pool of gasoline and turned, not watching the flames spread quickly across the floor towards Kate, screaming and struggling.

Stiles fought Peter; he even tried reasoning with him, trying to save the woman before her screams changed from simple pain to agony as the flames reached her body. Stiles was dragged out of the ruins of the Hale house to the tree line, where Peter kept a firm hand on his elbow, keeping him in place as Kate’s screams filled the cool night air.

The trees brightened as the flames took what little wood they could find from the ashes of the house, forming a circle of light like a star in the darkness.

Silence. The screams stopped and were replaced by the flames cackling merrily, like they didn't just consume the body of Kate Argent. A loud crash interrupted the silence as a large piece of the house fell, making the skeletal house look even more frightening.

Stiles flinched at the sound and the warm air from the fire blew the scent towards the pair. Its scent was sharp, like a campfire, but different. Mixed with the smell of burning corpse. The warm breeze cooled the tear tracks he didn’t know were there. 

Stiles flinched again as Peter’s warm hand brushed away the tear that made its way down his face. “She deserved this, Stiles.” He whispered, carefully touching Stiles’ cheek like he was a precious thing meant to be protected.

For the first time since the fire started, Stiles looked away from the flames to glare at Peter, who moved closer to him while the fire blazed. “No one deserves this.” He said, jerking away from the man’s touch.

For a moment, they both stood in silence, watching the flames die as they ran out of things to burn. “This isn’t senseless retaliation, Stiles.” The boy glanced at Peter as he spoke, watching his face as he explained this to Stiles. “It’s justice.”

Stiles said nothing. He only watched the flames die. He feels Peter’s eyes on him. “What now?” He asks, gesturing to his still tied hands. “You got your revenge, what happens now?”

Peter smiles at him, a genuine smile, and then grips Stiles’ hands, pulling him closer. Stiles gasped as a clawed finger traces the skin of his forearm and snaps the ropes around his wrists. He pulls on his arms, trying to get away from the claws still pushing into his skin. Peter’s grip tightened, almost enough to draw blood from the points of his claws as they dug into Stiles’ skin. 

Dropping one arm, and keeping one hand wrapped around the thin wrist, Peter started pulling Stiles to the jeep parked a short distance away, his grip too tight to fight against, “If you run,” he said, letting Stiles go at the passenger side door, “I’ll catch you.”

The smirk never slipped off Peter’s face as he slipped in the driver’s side of the Jeep and stared at Stiles through the windshield, waiting for the boy to get in after him. Stiles huffed in frustration and got into the jeep, slamming the door after him. 

Stiles rubbed the skin of his wrist, red from the rope and werewolf claws that had scratched at the sensitive skin there, as Peter sped away from the smoldering house and the scent of burning hunter. “Where are you going?” Stiles asked, grabbing onto the door handle when a sharp turn slammed him up against the door.

His questions went unanswered as Peter turned onto the highway, speeding away from Beacon Hills. Stiles turned in his seat and watched the small city lights get smaller and smaller before disappearing completely. 

Unease curled in his gut as he watched his home vanish in the darkness. “Take me back home, Peter,” Stiles ordered in a small voice.

Peter’s eyes flashed red. “No,” he said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Why not?” Stiles questioned, turning to face the alpha. 

“You’re going to help me.” Peter said, his eyes turning back to their normal blue.

Stiles huffed at the unhelpful answer, “With what? I alrea-”

His words were cut off when Peter swerved the jeep to the side, into the tree line. Stiles tightened his grip on the seat and closed his eyes, expecting the jeep to impact the trees.

But there was no impact. The Jeep skidded to a halt surrounded by trees and hidden on the side of the highway. Stiles didn’t have any time to catch his breath, Peter leaned close, his breath warm on Stiles’ throat.

“Stop talking.” Peter said, lingering near Stiles’ neck, breathing in the scent of fear. Then he was gone, with the jeep door wide open behind him.

Stiles’ heart pounded in his chest, his mind blank as he tried to remember how to breathe. He jumped back as his door was pulled open and Peter appeared beside him with his hand extended.

They both stood frozen before Peter reached forward to grab Stiles’ elbow, gently pulling him out of the jeep and onto the soft grass covering the side of the road. Peter didn’t release his grip on the boy’s arm as he started walking to the road and standing still, waiting for something.

Stiles didn’t even have the chance to ask what the man was waiting for before bright headlights appeared at the top of the hill. The sleek black car pulled to a stop in front of the pair.

Peter leaned forward and opened the door, releasing Stiles’ arm. He looked at Stiles expectantly, waiting for him to get in the new car.

After a moment of silence where neither of them moved, Peter smirked and said, “Either get in the car, or I’ll put you in the trunk.” 

Stiles stared at Peter for a moment, almost not believing him. The look on Peter’s face told him that the man wasn’t kidding. With a frown, Stiles stooped into the car and slid against the opposite door.

The woman driving the car didn’t look back at Peter as he got into the car and told her, “Go to the house.” She obeyed quickly. Light from the sporadic street lights illuminated her, her profile was harsh and angular and her light brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

Stiles had studied the missing person’s cases from Beacon Hills while his father slept on the couch, and this woman wasn’t one of them. Stiles tilted his head to the side as he stared at her, where had she come from? Where did Peter find her?

Stiles jumped as he felt a hand settle on his knee. His gaze jumped from the hand, to the man’s face. He shrank back, trying to push the hand off his knee, but claws grew and pushed into the fabric of Stiles’ jeans.

Ice replaced the blood in his veins as the realization set in. He stopped fighting the hand and turned back to the direction they came, knowing that he wasn’t likely going to see Beacon Hills again. His eyes burned; Stiles’ blinked away tears before they fell. “Please.” He whispered, not looking back at Peter. “Let me go home.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment, his thumb sliding back and forth on Stiles’ knee in a gesture that was meant to be soothing, “My decision’s been made, Stiles.”

Stiles frowned, and watched the black, towering figures of the trees fly by. Resolve replaced the fear and sadness as he thought, 'so has mine.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about tags and pairings: Sterek will take a while, and everyone after the OC’s will take a while to show up too. I didn’t want to tag slow build because it’s not really. The “action” will happen quite frequently. But everyone else is slow build.
> 
> I will try to get updates out fairly frequently, but I don’t know how often this will be updated. This is my first Teen Wolf fic, and Constructive Criticism is welcome.
> 
> My Tumblr: ashley-vh.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/6/13

The first thing Stiles was aware of was how _comfortable_ he was.  It felt like he was floating on a cloud with warm, golden sun shining on his face, making him want to go back to sleep.  He stretched his arms above his head and shifted under the thick comforter that covered him without opening his eyes.

He laid there for a few more moments in the limbo between sleeping and waking, before opening his eyes.  He stared at the plain white ceiling in confusion for a moment before the memories of the night before rushed back to him.

Stiles bolted upright and stared around the empty room.  He sighed with the small amount of relief of being alone in the room.  He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes, ignoring the throbbing, bruised rope burn marks on his wrists, and said a silent prayer, hoping it was all a dream and when he opens his eyes he’ll be back in his own bed with his dad asleep down the hall after trying to figure out who left Lydia unconscious on the field when she should have been dancing, and this will all have been a terrible dream.

Unsurprisingly, when Stiles opened his eyes again the scenery didn’t change.  The breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding rushed from his lungs and it sounded like a gun shot in the silence, his heart beat so loud in his chest he couldn’t hear the thoughts in his head. 

He felt a panic attack start to swell in his gut and he closed his eyes again, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face in darkness and wrath, trying not to breathe the unfamiliar scent of the soft, emerald green sheets caught on his legs. 

Stiles stayed like that for a few moments, focusing on his breathing and heartbeat, until his heartbeat was fast, but steady.  He slowly raised his head to look around the room.

The walls were painted plain white interrupted by three identical dark wood doors on separate walls and the hardwood floor was polished so the sunlight from the large window by the bed made the floor gleam.  Stiles climbed out of the huge bed that was put in the middle of the room, and walked to the window.  He carefully pulled the clean white curtains out of the way to see the outside world.

The grass ran from the tree line to where the windowsill blocked the view of the ground, and the tips of the trees would have brushed against the base of the window if they were closer.  Stiles squinted his trying to see beyond the miles of trees that stretched from here to the horizon.  Where was he?   He couldn’t even see where a road cut through the forest.

Stiles turned away from the window, letting the curtain flutter back into place.  He slowly walked one of the three doors.  He threw the door open and stepped back, like he was waiting for someone to jump out at him.

He peeked inside the room and felt for a light switch, and stared at the racks of clothes in the closet.  He stepped inside the big closet and looked at the clothes carefully lined along the walls and the few pairs of shoes sitting on the floor.  Stiles pushed some of the clothes aside to look at a few of them.  Clean tee shirts arranged in a rainbow in one part of the wall, and on another portion of wall had long sleeved plaid shirts and there were sweaters and pressed button up shirts, there were even a few suit jackets hanging in the back corner.

Stiles turned the lights off and turned back to the main room.  He walked to the next door, and tried to turn the handle but it wouldn’t budge.  He was locked in this room.  Stiles bit the inside of his cheek almost hard enough to taste blood in his mouth to stop the fresh wave of panic, and moved to the last door past the empty shelves of a bookshelf.  He turned the handle and stepped into a bathroom. 

Fluffy towels sat on shelves cut into the wall between a shower door and a toilet.  Stiles opened the cabinet above the sink and saw two toothbrushes sitting in a cup beside a tube of toothpaste on the bottom shelf.   He slammed the door shut and opened all the doors under the sink, to find them empty.

Stiles closed the doors and leaned against the wall and stared at his reflection in the mirror.   He needed to think of a way out of this room and back home to his father who had surely noticed his absence and was looking for him.  He needed to go back home because he was the only family his father had left.  Stiles sank to the floor and put his head in his hands, feeling tears burn in his eyes.  Who else would make sure his dad would eat right?

He needed to find a way to get back home.  Stiles took a deep breath and rested his head against the wall.  He tried to relax, but his muscles were too tense with fear and desperation.  Stiles let out a groan of frustration and stood up, a nervous energy filling his blood.  Maybe a shower would make it a little easier to think…

Stiles slammed the bathroom door shut, thanking whatever God there was that there was a lock on the door.  Whatever good a wooden door would do against a psychopathic alpha werewolf… He grabbed the top towel and sat it on the counter and opened the shower door, fiddling with the dials and letting the water warm up.  Stiles quickly stripped off his clothes and stepped into the hot spray.

He stood under the water that was too hot, turning his skin red, and felt his body start to relax.  He closed his eyes and pretended that he was in his own shower and not kidnapped by a creep as he tried to think of his options.

He was stuck.  Locked in a room that was too high to jump out of and expect to get very far.  He wasn’t strong enough to break open a locked door and even if he did manage to get out of the room, he had no idea where he was and no hope to get back home.

Not to mention, he was being held captive by an alpha werewolf who could probably sniff him out and hunt him like an animal if he ran through the woods.

Stiles stood under the spray until the heat drained away and turned to cool water running down his spine.  He only had the knowledge that he was trapped in this place completely at the mercy of a psychopath.

He got out of the shower, quickly dried himself and put the clothes he slept in back on, not wanting to wear the clothes in the closet across the room.  He sighed and turned the lock and opened the door, not really sure what else to do.

“I was wondering when you would come out, Stiles.”  Stiles jumped back, his back hitting the bathroom door, frightening him again and making him jerk away from the doorframe.  Peter smirked at him from his perch on the edge of the bed.  “You’ve been asleep for a long time.”

Stiles huffed, frowning at the man on the bed.  “I want to go home.”  He said in a voice he hoped was confident despite his fear.

Peter didn’t say anything and he slowly stood up and walked to Stiles.  The boy tried to move away but the wall hit his back and Peter was so close to him, he could feel the warmth coming off the wolf.  Peter stared down at Stiles for a moment.

Then he stepped back and grabbed Stiles’ elbow, pulling him to the door that was locked.  Stiles tried to resist but he was dragged out of the door and into a wide hallway with warm light and a few doors on either side.  Peter didn’t let go of Stiles’ elbow as they slowly walked down a maze of hallways.

“Are you going any place in particular, or are you just going to drag me around for a while?”  Stiles asked, frustrated.

Peter’s grip tightened slightly, “I’m assuming you’re hungry.”  He said simply, turning at the end of the hall to lead them down a staircase.  Stiles didn’t say anything as he focused on not falling down the steps.

They continued down the steps to another floor, and Peter pulled him along until there weren’t any more steps beneath them.  Stiles stared around at the small crowd of people walking around and talking to each other in the large, ornate dining room.  When Peter pulled Stiles into the room, they all fell silent.  They stood and bared their necks to Peter as he passed, not looking the alpha in the eye, but when he led Stiles past them, they gawked at the boy in fascination.

“Who are they?”  Stiles asked, staring behind him at the people returning to whatever work they were doing.

“The pack.”  Peter said, leading Stiles through another slightly smaller empty dining room to a large set of glass double doors.  He pulled the latch up and stepped aside, releasing Stiles’ arm and waiting for the boy to walk outside.

Stiles stared at Peter for a moment before carefully stepping through the door and peering around at the garden he was led to.  Beautiful flowers and greenery surrounded the white metal table and chairs that stood beside a woman in a plain black dress with her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

His eyes followed the path that led through the solid wall of plants taller than he was.  It curved so there was no way to know if the path led to a road that he could possibly run down until he found someone to help him…

Peter’s hand appeared on his lower back, making him jump.  Before Stiles had the chance to pull away, Peter pushed Stiles to the chair in the corner and said, “Sit.”  He sat down and the woman moved to stand beside him, she leaned down to speak quietly to the alpha. 

Stiles glared at Peter for a moment, still standing next to the chair, but the wolf didn’t seem to mind.  He raised his eyebrows at Stiles while the woman whispered to him, Peter took his eyes off Stiles to respond to whatever the woman had said.  Stiles glanced back to the mystery path. 

This could be his only opportunity… he didn’t know where to go, but there wasn’t another option.  Stiles glanced at Peter, who still wasn’t looking his direction.

Then he ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback that I’ve gotten, it’s made me very happy ^U^
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. I forgot to mention that this story doesn’t have a beta yet, and I have people who I have in mind to beta for me but I haven’t gotten around to asking her yet.
> 
> My tumblr where I’ll post updates and answer the anon asks I get, and y’all can tell me to gtfo tumblr and write: ashley-vh.tumblr.com Also, I am accepting prompt requests for when I’m bored and need to exercise my muse.
> 
> This is half the chapter it was going to be. It got too long, so I cut it short and I’m unofficially calling this Chapter 2a, and since 2b is about half done, It’ll be up within the next few days, and pick up directly after this chapter.
> 
> Also I have the vast majority of this story planned already, but there are gaps, and an anon has given me a maybe idea already. So if you have any suggestion or things you want to see I’ll see if I want to add it in.
> 
> Lastly, That episode, Jesus Christ. That Episode. If they kill the sheriff or Mama McCall or Papa DILF Argent I will scream.
> 
> The actual last thing: My birthday is tomorrow (August 7th) ^U^
> 
> That's all. Sorry for my rambles.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8/30/13

Stiles had never really been much of a runner, but he was on the lacrosse team and even if he didn’t play, he still went to every practice, so he could run fairly quickly.  Probably not fast enough to outrun a werewolf, he knew that… But he had to at least try.

He ran as fast as he could along the path as it curved through thick tree trunks, not daring to look behind him, trying not to wonder why he hadn’t been caught by the alpha yet.  Scott was only a beta and he ran faster than he did…

Stiles stopped dead at the end of the path.  The thick woods ended suddenly and another small garden with a table and chairs sat in the shade of the trees, and a wall nearly twice his height cut through the tree line.  Stiles’ breath rushed in and out of his lungs too loudly in the silence of the trees as he stared at the wall that stretched as far as he could see in either direction.

“Seriously?!” he stepped forward, carefully reaching his hand out to touch the smooth white stone, not believing his eyes, “A Wall?!”  He heard a branch snap behind him.  He tensed, trying to run away from the sound, but before he could move a step an arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him off his feet.  He struggled against the arm that dragged him against Peter’s body.

Peter wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ throat and pulled their bodies together, carefully pressing his claws into his skin in warning.  Stiles stilled under Peter’s claws, his breath coming in ragged gasps that were a mix of fear and adrenaline.  Peter ran his nose along Stiles’ neck with a low, satisfied noise in the back of his throat.

The trees blurred as Peter turned him around, slamming his back against the Wall.  Before Stiles could even draw a breath, Peter crowded against him with his hands bruising the boy’s hips and pressed their lips together.

Stiles raised his arms to push Peter’s shoulders and tried to push him away; Peter growled against his lips and grabbed his wrists.  He slammed them on either side of his head against the wall.  Stiles gasped in pain when Peter pushed too hard against the rope burns on his wrists, allowing him to push his tongue past Stiles’ lips.

Peter pulled back suddenly and let his head fall against Stiles’ neck, “Don’t,” he said, his lips brushing against the pulse at Stiles’ throat, “Do that again.”  Peter’s breath tickled Stiles’ skin as the man caught his breath.

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to force the panic away for the second time that day.  Peter nuzzled against Stiles’ neck, trying to calm the boy down.

After a moment, Peter carefully pulled Stiles’ wrists away from the wall, brushing his fingertips over the harsh red and purple marks around his wrists.  He didn’t miss Stiles’ wince at the burn on his skin.

Stiles still hadn’t opened his eyes when his hands started tingling.  He looked down at their hands and his mouth fell open at the black lines on Peter’s forearm.  When the black lines disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt, the tingles in Stiles’ wrists were gone and the dull throb he’d felt all day vanished.

Peter was staring at him with a small, amused smirk on his face. 

“How did you do that?” Stiles asked quietly, staring between their still connected hands and the man’s face with wide eyes.

Peter dropped one of Stiles’ hands, keeping the other trapped in his fingers, “I took your pain.”  He said, turning and pulling Stiles back the way he ran along the path that cut through the trees.

Stiles followed along, not bothering to pull away; he wouldn’t be able to get away again anyway.  “Can all werewolves do that?”

“As long as they know they can,” Peter answered, slowing to walk beside Stiles. 

They broke through the tree line after a moment of walking in silent thought, and the house came back into view.  “This place is massive,” Stiles muttered to himself. Calling it a house was a lie.  It was no house.  A palace would have been more accurate.  Stiles’ whole house could fit comfortably inside the building at least twice.

Peter led Stiles back to the chair he had run from, and sat back in the chair he had left.  Stiles sat down where he was told with a sigh.  He leaned back against the cool metal of the chair and folded his arms across his chest with a frown while he thought of what just happened, his heart still beating fast with fear and adrenaline.

He guessed what Peter wanted with him when he was in the car, but Stiles hadn’t really _known_ until Peter kissed him.  Stiles felt his hands shaking against his chest and folded them tighter against his body, trying to will the tremors away.  It would be his luck that his first time would be rape by a murderous psychotic werewolf.

Stiles heart beat even faster in his chest; he couldn’t hear his thoughts over the sound of his blood pounding in his ears.  He felt tears in his eyes; he closed them before they had a chance to fall.  His throat felt tight and it was getting harder for Stiles to breathe with every passing second.  Stiles tried to control the rapid stutter of his heart, but he couldn’t stop the panic attack this time.

Folding in on himself, Stiles hid his face in his hands, trying to will himself back home and safe.  His head spun as his breathing became out of control and he couldn’t draw a full breath.  He tried to reason with himself, if he didn’t stop hyperventilating, he’ll pass out.  He couldn’t let himself pass out, not now, not here with-

Warm hands encircled Stiles’ wrists and pulled his hands away from his face.  Stiles tried to fight against the hands, but he wasn’t strong enough.  “Stiles” Peter’s voice sounded far away as he spoke, Stiles didn’t open his eyes and he could feel himself shaking against Peter’s hands. 

Peter pulled his hands further away from the boy’s chest, “Breathe with me.”  He said, pressing Stiles’ hands flat over his heart and taking slow, deliberate breaths.

Stiles felt the alpha’s steady heartbeat and careful breaths under his palms, and despite himself, his body slowly begin to match Peter’s strong and steady heartbeat.

After a few moments of stillness, Stiles tried to pull his hands away from Peter’s chest.  Peter guided the boys arms back into his lap, but didn’t let go of his wrists.  “Open your eyes, Stiles.”  Peter’s voice was soft and comforting, and Stiles was too tired to fight him, so he opened his eyes, blinking the blurred lines away.

Peter was kneeling in front of Stiles’ chair with his hands still wrapped around Stiles’ wrists.  “Better?” Peter asked, running his thumb along the veins in Stiles’ wrists, still trying to soothe him.

Stiles nodded and tried to pull his hands away again.  Peter tightened his grip and stood up, slowly pulling Stiles to his feet.  Stiles stumbled, almost tripping over his own feet in his dizziness until Peter grabbed his elbows, keeping him upright.

Once Peter was sure that the boy wouldn’t fall, he started to lead Stiles back through the glass doors that led back into the house.  Stiles didn’t want to go back into the house, but was too tired to try to pull away again.

Peter stayed close to Stiles’ side, keeping the pace slow so Stiles wouldn’t fall in his dizzy state.   Stiles took a deep breath, steadying himself before trying to speak with slightly slurred words, “What are you doing?” Stiles flinched away from Peter as the man’s hand hovered over his lower back as they neared the stairs, preparing to catch him if he fell.

“You need to rest, Stiles.”  Peter replied, glancing at Stiles as the he tried not to trip up the stairs.

He made it up two steps before the toe of his shoe caught the lip of the stair and Stiles was tumbling forward.

Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles’ chest and dragged him back upright.  Before Stiles could blink, Peter looped one arm under Stiles’ arms and the other behind his knees to scoop Stiles off the ground like he weighed nothing.

The ground tilted underneath them at the sudden change in position, making Stiles’ grip tighten on Peter’s shirt.  Stiles gasped in shock, “Put me down.” He ordered, gripping Peter’s shoulder to steady himself as the wolf rushed up the stairs. 

His protests were completely ignored until Peter pushed the door open of the room Stiles woke up in.  Peter gently sat Stiles down on the bed, pushing a hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up and pulling the blankets up to Stiles’ waist.  “Lay down, Stiles.  You need to rest.”

Stiles stayed still, blinking his tired eyes as Peter closed the curtains, blocking out the light of the early afternoon sun.  Peter turned back to Stiles and sat on the other edge of the bed, looking down at Stiles.  “Turn over.”

He froze, his face going pale and his eyes wide with fear.  Peter smirked as Stiles’ heartbeat skyrocketed again, “I’m just going to help you relax.”  When Stiles didn’t move, Peter sighed and looked down at Stiles, “Or I could just make you turn over.” He said, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Stiles stayed still for a moment, staring at Peter with wide eyes.  He frowned and pulled the blanket tighter up around his chest, like that would do a damn bit of good if Peter decided to get rid of it, and turned to lay on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms.

There was a beat of stillness before Peter gently traced his fingers down Stiles’ neck from the fuzz at his hairline to where his shirt covered his skin.  Stiles flinched and closed his eyes, feeling his hands tremble against the pillow.  

“Relax, Stiles.”  Peter said, running his hands across Stiles’ shoulders, easing away the stress from Stiles’ back with his deft fingers. 

Stiles didn’t say anything as he lay still under the werewolf’s ministrations.  Slowly, the tense and tired muscles relaxed.  Too much had happened.  Too many panic attacks and too much stress.  Stiles was exhausted and sleep started dragging him down, despite the fear that coursed through his blood whenever he thought about what was happening.

Peter’s hands traced his spine and added just enough pressure to his lower back to make Stiles arch his back and sigh as he pushed a knot of stress out of Stiles’ mostly asleep body.  

When Stiles’ breath evened out and his heart beat slowed in sleep, Peter leaned down and pressed a kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck at the top of his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with what feeling the werewolf healing felt like… and I’m not exactly in love with this chapter… But they will get better I promise, I just needed to get through the introductory bits. That’s pretty much done with now, so the story will pick up with the proper level of good writing within the next few chapters.
> 
> And Sorry for the long wait, loves… This is 2b. I have about 2 or 3 thousand words left of what was supposed to be chapter 2, so this is (hopefully) the last time I’ll cut chapter 2. 
> 
> Check my tumblr (ashley-vh.tumblr.com) for updates, as I will be posting one before I go to bed every night. Everything about this story will be tagged as “Castle in the Clouds fic”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/3/13

A pang of hunger stabbed his stomach.  Stiles slowly came back to consciousness, frowning in confusion.  There was a warm weight across his back, keeping him still, and sharp nails gently scratched the back of Stiles’ neck, making him shiver.  He slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the late afternoon light.

When the blurry sleepiness cleared from his eyes, he flinched away from the face inches from his own.  Peter tightened his clawed fingers on the back of Stiles’ neck, keeping him from going too far away from Peter who was lying beside Stiles. 

Peter smirked and gently let go of Stiles’ neck, running his fingertips over the tiny marks that his claws had made.  “Are you feeling better, Stiles?” Peter asked, pulling Stiles into a sitting position on the bed.

He frowned, looking down at the dark green blanket on the bed.  He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he did always get tired after a panic attack… it was expected that he’d want to fall asleep.   Stiles felt phantom hands on his back in the memory of Peter’s hands on him, making his skin crawl like it was covered with ants.

“ _Stiles_ ” Peter said, bringing Stiles away from his thoughts and reminding him that he hadn’t answered the alpha’s question. 

Stiles looked back to Peter and nodded, resisting the urge to scratch the skin off of his back.

Peter stood up and walked around the bed, grabbing Stiles’ elbow and pulling him off the bed towards the door.  Stiles stumbled, but Peter didn’t allow him to fall as he walked them out to the hallway.

Before he knew it, they were back in the garden sitting across from each other at the white metal table, and Stiles was watching the sun sink lower in the sky, still above the treetops.  Stiles’ stomach rumbled again, causing him to frown as Peter looked at him with what almost looked like concern.

The glass doors opened, and a young woman wearing all black with her pale brown hair in a braid came out carrying a large plate in her hands.  She didn’t say a word as she stepped forward and sat the plate full of food in front of them, not looking either of them in the eye.  She stepped back and bowed low before she left without a word.

Stiles watched her go, wondering who she was.  He turned away from the door and looked at the food the woman sat in front of them.  There were piles of fluffy eggs and sausage and ham and a stack of toast and a small bowl of different fruit carefully piled on the tray.  There had to be enough food to feed a small army.  Along the side of the tray, there were two glasses beside a tall bottle of what looked like wine.

It all looked delicious and made Stiles’ mouth water and his stomach grumble with want.  He ignored it though; he clutched his hands in his lap and stared at the pale lines between the polished stone blocks making up the floor.

“Eat, Stiles.”  Peter said, popping a grape in his mouth from the bowl.

“I’m not hungry.”  Stiles said, his eyes taking the same path he ran a few hours ago.

“Liar.”

Stiles frowned at the ground, feeling eyes bore into his skin.  He looked up, scowling at the look on Peter’s face.  They sat still for a moment, with Peter smirking at Stiles, until the boy rolled his eyes and carefully picked a piece of toast off the top of the pile and subtly sniffed it.

Peter laughed and said, “it’s not poison, Stiles.”

“It may not be poison, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t drugged,” Stiles snapped without thinking. 

The smirk disappeared from Peter’s face in a flash.  “Why would I need to drug you Stiles?” he asked, frowning as Stiles spluttered.  He didn’t wait for the boy to form a full word, “What do you think I’m going to do, Stiles?  Rape you?”

Stiles flinched at the word; he wrapped his arms around his stomach and looked at the polished stone blocks as the fear drowned his blood. 

Peter’s eyes turned dark red.  The bottle of wine ratted against the metal platter as his fist slammed on the table when he leaned forward with his jaw clenched tight.  “I will never drug you, Stiles.”  He said. 

Stiles flinched at the noise; he leaned away from the eyes burrowing into his skin.  “I won’t have to,” Peter waited until Stiles looked back up with frightened eyes before he continued.  “When I _fuck_ you,” he said, locking eyes with Stiles, “You are going to want it.”

He leaned back against the back of the chair, but Stiles didn’t move.  Stiles stared at Peter with wide eyes.  “That will never happen.”  He said, anger and disgust pushing the fear down into a small knot in his stomach. It was still there, but not nearly as prominent.

Peter only smirked, like a parent who tells their child that it’s not possible for them to fly while they tie a bed sheet cape around their shoulders.  “Eat.”  He said, picking another piece of fruit from the bowl.

Stiles carefully bit the corner of the toast, his stomach protesting the pace, but he wouldn’t eat any faster.  He knew that there would never be a day when he wanted to have sex with Peter.  The thought alone made his stomach roll.

Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry anymore.

They sat in silence for a few moments.  Stiles kept his eyes on the ground, feeling Peter’s eyes burn holes in his skin.  By the time the woman who brought the food out came back through the glass doors, Stiles was practically vibrating with nervous energy.

Stiles looked up at her, frowning as she stared at the ground.  She barely glanced up to see Peter wave his hand at the platter of food.  She silently took the food and gave a small bow and turned without a word and pulled the door closed behind her.

“Stand up, Stiles.”  Peter said, having stood up without Stiles realizing it.

Stiles flinched, hesitating for a moment before slowly standing and taking a step away from the table.  He wasn’t stupid enough to try to run again, but he didn’t want to stand too close. 

They didn’t stay there for long though.  Peter pulled Stiles through the glass doors back into the house and through a door at the edge of the dining room.  He pulled the boy along until they reached an office lined with bookshelves and a large dark wood desk in front of the window that allowed the golden sunlight in the room.

Inside the office, there was a woman with _long_ black hair that curled to her lower back staring out the window across from the door with the bright afternoon sun shining on her.  Her black dress swirled around her, drowning her body and seemed to be moving like water around her still form.

She turned when she heard them enter; she smiled brightly and stepped around the desk, staring at Stiles.  Peter let go of his elbow and stepped back as the woman grabbed both of his shoulders in her strong grip, ignoring when he flinched back.  Her green eyes sparkled as she analyzed his face, “This must be Stiles.”  She said with a light accent Stiles couldn’t place.

He nodded.  Something about this woman was familiar to him.  He’s sure he never met her before… but there was something about the laugh lines around her mouth and the gleam in her eyes that reminded him of someone…

The woman released his shoulders and turned back to the window.  “I like him.”  She said, folding her hands behind her back, the sleeves of her dress slipping down covering her hands.

Peter smirked.  “Stiles,” he said, “This is Adrasteia.  She will be the one who makes sure you are safe and content when I’m away.”

The woman turned back around with a small smile.  “Call me Addie,” she said.  She leaned against the desk and smiled.  “Is there anything you want?”  She asked Stiles as Peter walked to the other side of the desk and sat down.

Stiles didn’t say anything at first.  He stared at her in disbelief.  She smiled and raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer.  “I want to go home.” He blurted out. 

Addie frowned and pursed her lips in sympathy.  She sighed and was silent for half a second before she smiled again, “How about a television for your bedroom?”   She pushed away from the desk, going around to the other side of the desk to pull open one of the drawers.  She pulled out a pad of paper and started scribbling something, “I’ll make sure you get the best television the market has to offer.”

Peter looked up from the letter he had opened while Addie had been writing, not saying a word, just glancing between them.  Addie tore the top page off the pad and held it out to Peter who took it and started writing.

She folded the paper in half and walked to the door.  She pushed it open and leaned out, whistling.  “Sammy, girl I need you!” she called to the hallway.  She held her arm out with the paper folded neatly in her fingers.

Stiles leaned forward to look past Addie into the hall leading to the dining room, his curiosity getting the better of him.  He saw a woman running down the hall dressed completely in black with a long dark blond braid trailing after her.

The girl, Sammy, skidded to a halt a few inches in front of Addie’s outstretched hand.  Sammy took the paper and carefully unfolded it.

“I need to you to run to the store and pick a few things up for Stiles and I.”  Addie said, tucking a stray piece of the girl’s hair behind her ear.

Sammy didn’t say anything; she smiled brightly at Addie before glancing at Stiles.  The smile faltered when she looked at Peter who was staring at her with an eyebrow raised and a frown.  The girl stopped smiling and bowed low and turned to run back through the hall.

Addie turned around with a bright smile.  She gestured for Stiles to sit beside her on the opposite side of the desk from Peter.  The woman threw herself onto the chair by the door and propped her feet up on the edge of the desk.  The edge of her dress slipped above her bare feet, the light glimmering off the ring on her middle toe.

She looked up at Stiles, still standing by the door.  “Well come on.  It’s a chair, it won’t bite you.”  She said with a wide smile.

Stiles slowly sat on the edge of the chair, carefully pushing it away from the desk.  Addie reached over and placed her hand on Stiles’ forearm in a comforting gesture, ignoring when the boy flinched away from it.  “So,” she said, quickly taking her hand back.  “Are you done yet?”  Peter looked up from his paper “I’m bored.” Addie said, picking a piece of lint off her dress.

Peter frowned up at her, his eyes flashing red.  Addie’s eyes flashed bright blue in response; she tilted her head to the side, looking at the floor at Stiles’ feet and showing her neck to the alpha. 

Once she heard the scratching of the pen on paper, she rolled her eyes up to smile at Stiles.  “So touchy,” She whispered.

Stiles almost smiled at her.  He perched on the edge of the seat with his hands folded in his lap and his legs bouncing so much he was practically vibrating with nervous energy. 

“Stiles.”  The woman said sternly, “You need to calm down.  No one will hurt you here.”  There was something in her eyes… some emotion that she hid from him.  She leaned back to stare out the window with a fond look.  “After we’re done here, you’re going to meet the rest of the pack.  How does that sound?”  She asked, not looking away from the sun shining through the window.

He didn’t say anything, and Addie didn’t seem all that interested in hearing what he might have said.  She closed her eyes and folded her hands on her stomach. 

They sat in silence for a moment.  The only sound was the scratching of the pen on the paper Peter was writing, and the whir of the heater, keeping the cool November air out of the house.  The quiet seemed thick in the air, making Stiles antsy…  After a few seconds, Stiles felt like he might scream just to break the silence. 

A small tune floated in the air from Addie’s chair.  Stiles didn’t recognize the tune, but it felt almost familiar to him… it was a simple lullaby that made Stiles lightly sway back and forth with the melody that Addie produced.

The song the woman sang ended, Stiles hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.  He blinked the late aftrnoon sun spots out of his eyes and stared at Addie, wondering what happened.  The woman opened her eyes, and smiled at the letter Peter had folded up and held out to her, ignoring Stiles’ questioning gaze.  She pulled her feet off the desk and pulled a single white envelope from the sleeve of her dress.  “Return this letter and stress the importance of making wise decisions while he still can.”

Addie nodded and tucked the letter into the sleeve of her dress.  She turned to Stiles and gave a small bow; she straightened up and announced, “I’ll be back soon.”  With a swish of her skirt, she turned and left Stiles and Peter alone in the office.

Peter stood, stepped around the desk and stopped in front of Stiles.

The boy ignored the alpha’s outstretched hand and pulled himself to his feet, knowing that if he didn’t, Peter would pull him up whether he liked it or not… It would just be easier for him to go along with what Peter wanted for now and think about other ways to get himself back home.

Peter smirked at him, letting Stiles slip past him, leaning away to avoid touching the wolf.  Before the boy could get far, Peter wrapped his hand around his elbow.

Stiles tensed at the contact, he tried to pull away again.  Peter tightened his hold on his elbow, nearly bruising his skin.  It took every ounce of Stiles’ control to stop pulling away so the claws he knew were coming wouldn’t pierce his skin. He took a deep breath to try to control the tremors that ran through his body.

He was still shaking when Peter began pulling him out of the sun and towards the door of the office.  Stiles stumbled on the doorframe of the office, his feet tingling like they were asleep.  He winced as Peter’s grip tightened, keeping the boy upright, Stiles pushed against the wall to stand up straight. 

Stiles said nothing as Peter all but dragged him down the hall to the large dining room.  He could hear excited whispers from the large entry way where he was being dragged.  Stiles leaned forward, trying to see what was in the dining room…

There was a long dark polished wood table near a tall wall of windows with a row of chairs facing three smaller tables in the center of the room.  All three tables were filled with at least 20 people dressed in black and white who had been whispering before he was dragged in and trays of food placed on the gleaming wood.

All at once, the whispers stopped.

It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the tile like a gunshot.  Every eye in the room turned to Stiles and Peter as they neared the threshold.   When they entered the room, each and every person stood like they were pulled up by a single string.  They turned their heads to the side in one movement, not looking at the alpha, but sneaking secret glances at Stiles.

Stiles would have stopped if Peter had allowed it.  He didn’t even slow down, he just tugged him along to the table at the front of the room and sat dawn, pulling Stiles to the chair beside his half a second later.

The strangers sat down, moving as one and stayed dead silent.  They must all be werewolves…  Stiles had never met a human with grace like this group had…  Stiles bit the inside of his lip and looked around the room.

No one moved.  They stared at the empty silver plates in front of them and remained eerily quiet.  Stiles recognized a few of the faces from earlier that day when he passed through this room at breakfast.  Stiles flinched at the sudden sound of a door across the room being thrown open.  “Daddy!” A high voice called out, followed by the taps of tiny shoes on the tiled floor.

Stiles leaned forward to see around Peter and stared as a little girl no older than 6 ran across the room, her pale pink dress flapping around her legs and her long brown curls trailing behind her like a cape.  She was a few feet away from the table when Peter held up his hand.  The kid skidded to a halt, nearly falling from the sudden stop; she straightened her shoulders and knelt to the ground. 

The little girl knelt on one knee beside an empty chair with her head tilted to the side, baring her small neck to the alpha while sneaking little peaks through her hair.

Peter smiled and opened his arms to the little girl, slipping forward to the edge of the chair while the girl bolted up and ran to him.  She threw her tiny arms around his neck with a wide smile on her face, showing crooked teeth.

She slid back to the floor and smiled at Stiles, who was still leaning forward a little.  Her blue eyes widened when she smiled at him, and Stiles couldn’t help the small half smile he gave her in return.  “Stiles,” Peter said, “This is my daughter, Adelaide.” 

Stiles was silent, staring between Adelaide and Peter.  After a few seconds, Adelaide stepped past Peter to stand in front of Stiles.  She held her tiny hand out for Stiles to shake, looking at him expectantly.  Stiles slowly took the child’s hand, smiling a little as she roughly shook his hand. 

Adelaide turned and ran past Peter to the chair at the end of the table, the tiny bells attached to her socks jingling merrily and the pink bow in her hair bouncing in the wind.  Stiles turned back to Peter, staring at the alpha in shock.  Peter smirked at him and turned to the group that walked in the door at the end of the room.

A group of five people walked past the tables to stand at the empty seats at the table between Peter and Adelaide.  They did not make eye contact with Stiles or Peter as they approached, baring their necks before sitting down in their seats. 

There was barely a beat of silence before Peter leaned forward and picked up the silver plate in front of him.  He served himself from the platters of food in front of him, and sat the plate back where it was.  Peter didn’t say a word as he took the plate in front of Stiles.  He piled it with steaming pieces of ham and fried potatoes and steamed vegetables and returned it to its place in front of Stiles, leaning close to the boy.  “Eat.”  He ordered, his gaze flicking down to Stiles’ throat and back to his eyes before leaning back, waving his hand in the direction of his pack.

There was a flurry of movement in front of him as the pack began to dig into the piles of food in front of them.  Stiles watched them for a moment, he watched the teens in front of him growl at each other over large hunks of meat and the occasional flash of gleaming electric blue flashed in a pair of eyes before they grabbed the food out of each other’s hands and ate it quickly.

Peter cleared his throat.  When Stiles turned to the alpha, and was met with a piece of ham pierced by a fork a few inches from his mouth.  He flinched back, ignoring the smirk Peter threw him.  “Either you eat on your own,” Peter said, holding the fork out to the boy, “Or I’ll feed you.”

Stiles glared at Peter, disgust curling in his throat.  He looked down at the plate in front of him, carefully picking up the fork that was set beside his plate that Peter made.  He stared at it for a moment, a small smirk forming at the corner of his mouth in victory when he saw Peter slowly lower his fork.  Stiles roughly stabbed his own piece of ham and ate it, pretending not to notice the eyes boring into the side of his head as he ate. 

He fought the urge to scarf down the food in front of him.  Stiles didn’t know he was so hungry until he started to eat… the food was probably some of the best he’d ever had.  But he was too stubborn to show that.

The door at the end of the room was thrown open.  It slammed against the wall and made Stiles flinch at the noise.  Addie lowered her arms to her sides and strode into the room, her skirt fanning out behind her.

She smiled at Stiles as she walked, her bare feet smacking onto the tile with every step she took.  As she passed the tables, she turned and smiled at the betas who had their heads turned in submission to her.

As Addie moved past the end of Stiles’ table, she grabbed three shiny metal glasses and a tall thin bottle made of dark glass and strode to the other end of the table toward Stiles.  She leaned over Peter and placed a glass in front of him; she popped the cork off the bottle and filled his glass with dark red wine.

Peter didn’t react to her as she straightened back up and took two glasses and her bottle of wine and sat beside Stiles at the end of the table.  Addie smiled at Stiles again, leaning back in her chair as she poured another glass of wine.

“The food is good Stiles, I know you’re hungry.   Quit looking at me, and eat.”  She said, placing the glass in front of Stiles.  She poured her own glass and picked up her plate, piling food onto the sparkling silver and picking up her fork.

While they ate, Stiles watched the pack in front of him.  There were at least twenty betas sitting at the tables eating loudly and growling at each other with cold blue eyes flashing in warning, “Why are their eyes blue?” Stiles blurted out, speaking quietly over the noise of the pack.

The woman beside him hummed.  “That boy…” Addie said, “What was his name?” she tapped her chin and turned to Peter, “That boy you bit after the deer?”

“Scott.” Peter said, leaning back in his chair.

“Scott.”  Addie said with a smile.  “He had gold eyes didn’t he?”  She asked Stiles, leaning forward and stabbing a green been with her fork.

Stiles nodded and Addie smiled.  “With werewolves, there are three main different eye colors.”  She said, tucking a piece of her black hair behind her ear, “Blue, Gold, and Red.”  She ticked the color off her fingers.  “Red means alpha.”  She said, gesturing to Peter, who was watching his pack eat with an almost bored expression.  “But you already knew that,” she whispered.  “Gold,” she started, returning her voice to its normal volume, “means your everyday, average beta.  Like your friend Scott.”

She leaned back in the chair, gently swirling the wine in her glass.  “Blue eyes,” she said, her eyes flashed electric blue before she turned her gaze back to Stiles with a dark smile.  “Blue eyes means that that werewolf has killed an innocent person.”  Her eyes returned to their normal green.  “Their death damages a part of your soul.  Making our eyes blue.”

Stiles blinked and stared at the woman in horror, then turned to look at all the betas, still talking, laughing and eating loudly, ignoring the quiet conversations at the main table.  “They all killed someone?”  Stiles whispered.

“Most of them killed more than one.”  Peter said, smirking at Stiles.

Staring at the pack in shock, Stiles counted them.  20…. More than 20 people had died and the people in this room had caused it.

“Eat, Stiles.”  Peter said shortly, running out of patience with the boy.

This time, Stiles didn’t object.  He ate slowly, imagining all the people these betas must have killed.  All of them… they are all loyal to him.  Stiles was surrounded by murderers with teeth and claws loyal to a madman. 

A cold feeling settled like a rock in his stomach.  There was no scenario where he’ll come out of this alive.

Stiles sat the fork on his plate and folded his hands on his lap. 

“It’s late.”  Addie said, draining the last of the wine in her glass in one gulp.  “It’s been a long day.”

Peter nodded to the pack and the betas stood, picking up plates and glasses and rushing out of the dining room, running to small door in the dark corner of the room.  Addie stood and placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.  She squeezed once and walked past him, stopping in front of the child and holding out her hand.  “Come on, Adelaide.”  The girl took her hand, hopping off the chair, “We can go play outside for a while.”

Stiles is still in a daze when Peter stood and pulled the boy to his feet, too many thoughts buzzing in his head to focus on one clearly.  The next thing Stiles new, they were back upstairs, heading through the maze of hallways to the room.

Peter dragged Stiles into the room and let go of Stiles’ elbow.  The alpha pointed to the closet, “Change your clothes, and stay here.”   He said, leaning in to the room through the doorway.  Before Stiles could respond, the door closed and the lock clicked, locking Stiles in.

Stiles didn’t move.  The day seemed to fade away, no matter how hard he thought about what happened, he couldn’t remember what he was doing for most of the day.  He shook his head, ignoring the quiver of nerves in his gut.  

He hasn’t seen any clocks in this house... he must have just misjudged the times…

He turned around, looking around the room.  The bed still sat in the middle of the room covered in the emerald green sheets that gleamed in the moonlight.  Under any other circumstances, he would want to fall into it and sleep for a million years.  But he could still feel the ghost of Peter’s lips on his, and it made his stomach curl in disgust. 

He looked away, to the window with moon light streaming though the curtains.  He moved around the bed, and gently pushed the curtains open and peered outside.  The moon was bright over head, the full moon was the night before, but it still looked full where it hung in the sky, surrounded by thousands of stars.

_You can’t see this many stars back home_ , Stiles thought, sinking to the floor by the window.  The back of his head hit the wall as sat on the floor, too tired to panic anymore.

Stiles didn’t know how long he sat on the floor with his neck craned back to stare at the sky, it seemed like he was only there for a moment, but the sound of the door being unlocked was like a gunshot that brought him back to his senses. 

He bolted upright and winced at the twinge in his neck.  The moonlight had shifted away from the window, making the shadows in the room darker than his human eyes can see in.

Peter opened the door and stepped inside, staring down at Stiles with a cold expression.  “I told you to change your clothes.” He said slowly, like he was talking to a child.

When Stiles didn’t make a move, Peter’s cold smirk turned into something predatory.  “Or, if you prefer,” he said slowly, enjoying the way Stiles squirmed under the wolf’s gaze as it raked up and down his body.  “You could sleep naked.”

Stiles glared at Peter, ignoring the icy stab of fear in his gut.  With as much dignity as he could muster, he shakily stood.  He straightened the plain white button up shirt that he’d been wearing since the dance, and gathered as much confidence as he could fake and strode to the closet door.  He threw open the door and slammed it after him, flipping the light switch to chase away the darkness.

He turned back to the door, hoping for a lock, but the smooth gold handle was unblemished.  He sighed and walked deeper into the lavish closet.  Stiles wandered past the clean clothes, looking for sweat pants or something to wear because there was no way in Hell Stiles would sleep naked with-

Stiles moved to the wall across from the door, where a small dresser sat, partially hidden behind the fabrics.  He rifled through the drawers full of socks and underwear, smirking a bit as he ruined the carefully stacked garments.  He pulled open the bottom drawer and sighed with a bit of relief at the black (of course) sweatpants folded neatly in the dark wood.

The fabric was soft and thin under Stiles’ fingers.  He frowned at the tag hidden at the back of the waist.  They were his size.  He let the sweatpants fall to the floor as he moved to a row of plaid shirts near the door.  Stiles pulled one off the hanger and examined it, his frown deepening when he saw that it was also the perfect size. 

He let the shirt fall to a pile on the floor, not bothering to pick it up before he turned around to change into the sweatpants, ignoring the panic and unease curing in his throat, making it harder to breathe.

After he had the new, soft sweatpants on with his dirty clothes left in a pile on the floor, Stiles stared at the door.  Could he stay in here and never have to go out there with the creepy alpha who would-

Stiles took a sharp breath, running his hands through his short hair.  Logically, there was no way Peter would let him sleep here, and it would be better to keep some semblance of control and dignity… If Peter wanted Stiles to go back in the- into that room, nothing Stiles wanted could stop that from happening, whether the closet door locked or not.

Peter did say that he wouldn’t-

He couldn’t be trusted.

But Peter hasn’t gone against his word yet-

Stiles frowned.  He’d better figure out what to do soon before the alpha came and got him.  He only had two options here.  Stay and get dragged out by a crazy werewolf, or go on his own and _maybe_ save himself a bit of pain.

So he straightened his shoulders, his decision has been made.  Stiles took a deep breath, calming his pounding heart before carefully opening the door.

The breath rushed from his lungs in relief as he looked around the empty room.  The bathroom door was wide open and Stiles could just barely see the blurred shape of Peter through the foggy glass shower door.

Heat flooded Stiles’ cheeks despite himself.  He was a virgin after all, and he wasn’t denying the fact that Peter wasn’t bad to look at.  Even if his cold eyes were just shy of complete madness, he was kinda hot for an old guy.

He shook his head and looked at the door.  He slowly walked to it, hoping that it would be unlocked... He held his breath, trying not to make any noise in case werewolf hearing could hear his movements over the rushing water.  He turned the handle and the breath rushing from his lungs when the long gold doorknob stopped before it opened. 

Of course it was locked.

Stiles sighed and moved to the bed, his eyes drooped, the weight of the day pressing on his eyelids.  He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, the confusion about why he was so tired faded away to the tiredness the flooded his system.

He ignored his fast beating heart and the bite of panic in his throat as he curled on his side in the comfortable bed, pulling the blankets over his head, almost hiding under the warm silky fabric.  He listened to the water hit the tile shower floor in the bathroom as his eyes slipped closed and his breathing evened out.

Stiles was mostly asleep when Peter got out of the shower and dried the water off his skin.  The boy barely stirred as Peter walked into the bedroom with a pair of plain sweat pants slug low on his hips.  He normally wouldn’t be wearing them… but he had been advised not to scare the boy too much while he was still acting like a frightened rabbit.

He knew it was wise advice.  Who knows what Stiles would be capable of once that line had been crossed? 

He was, unfortunately, only human in the wolf’s den, but Peter did leave the house occasionally and he could only trust his betas so much before it becomes foolish.

So he couldn’t leave the house.  Not until Stiles was his.

Peter stood near the bed, in front of the boy whose soft lips parted in sleep with the smell of nerves present even in sleep.  Surely it wouldn’t hurt his cause to help the boy relieve a little stress…

He smirked as he walked around the bed, moving with his usual grace so the boy wouldn’t stir.  He pulled the blankets back and admired the curve of Stiles’ spine under the white tank top he chose to sleep in.  He was beautiful… hair’s a bit too short, but no one’s perfect.

Peter slowly slipped into the bed beside Stiles.  He trailed blunt nails down the long column of Stiles’ neck, smirking as the boy shivered.  His nails traced down the bones of the boy’s spine, gently pressing into the fabric of the shirt.  The boy’s heartbeat started to rise with something other than fear for the first time since Peter had gotten the boy in his claws.

Stiles shifted, starting to wake up piece by piece.  But, he was a hormonal teenager after all… The scent of arousal slowly started to fill the air, replacing the nerves that made the whole room smell like sweat and fear.

Peter got his hand around Stiles’ hip, carefully pulling the shirt up to touch his soft, young skin.  The warm body flinched beneath his hand and Stiles opened his eyes, his heartbeat soared impossibly high and he tried to try to move away from Peter.

The hand on his hip tightened on his skin, keeping the boy close.  “Shhh” Peter made his voice soft, pressing his lips to the back of Stiles’ neck.  The boy squirmed under Peter’s grip, small distressed whimpers escaped his throat and Peter was pretty sure that Stiles wasn’t even aware he was making the noises that sounded so sweet to the wolf.

Peter dragged Stiles closer by his hip, pressing the boy’s back against his chest.  He brought his other hand around to trail up Stiles’ stomach to his chest, relishing in the feel of squirming boy in his arms.  Peter moved his hand from the boy’s soft hip to the top of the black sweatpants, toying with the strings holding the pants on his hips.

Stiles wiggled around and freed his hands from where they were pinned in front of him.  The boy pushed at Peter’s hands, stinking of fear and anger.  Peter smirked against the boy’s neck, slowly moving his hands up, dragging his nails up the boy’s chest and away from his pants chasing the Goosebumps that appeared behind his hand.

Peter could smell the arousal on the teen.  His body enjoyed what Peter was doing, and soon enough Stiles would stop saying no…

Stiles fought the urge to shiver as Peter dragged his nails on his skin, an odd fluttery mixture of fear and-

He pushed Peter’s hands away again, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes at the pulls of arousal in his gut.  The lips at the back of his neck felt like ants crawling over his skin.  Despite the warmth and need spreading through his body at the werewolf’s ministrations, he felt disgusting.

Peter kept running his fingertips along Stiles’ skin and grazing blunt, human teeth along Stiles’ shoulder and neck.

Stiles’ breath hitched as the teeth grazed over a particularly sensitive spot Stiles didn’t know he had… His hand twitched towards his dick, hard despite the fear lacing his blood.  He didn’t even get close to where he needed to be touched when Peter’s hand snatched the boy’s wrist, dragging it back up to hold both of Stiles’ wrists in a vice grip.

No matter how hard Stiles tried to yank his hands back, Peter wouldn’t let him go.  He wouldn’t allow Stiles to give some relief to his achingly hard dick.

“Stop fighting me, Stiles.”  Peter whispered, his warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck.   Stiles bit his lip, panic mixing with the arousal as Peter’s hand drifted down his stomach again.

He closed his eyes and pretended he was back home in his own bed and the hand wrapping around his dick was his own.

A shuddering part moan-part whimper escaped from his throat as Peter wrapped his hand around Stiles’ cock, using the boy’s precome to ease his movements as he gave Stiles a slow stoke.

Tears dripped from his eyes when Peter quickened his movements, bringing Stiles close to the edge.  Stiles did his best to imagine himself away from the bed with Peter.  He tried to imagine it, but he was too hot, too worked up, too scared to imagine himself alone.

He had never been touched like this by another person… If it’s even possible to count Peter as a person.  Stiles moaned and more tears fell to the pillow beneath him as Peter twisted his hand around the head. 

Luckily enough for Stiles, he didn’t last long once Peter got his hands on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Non-con. 
> 
> IMPORTANT STUFF. PLEASE READ I know it’s long, but please read it anyway.
> 
> 1\. This is where I’ll write chapter specific warnings and any trigger warnings, so read the first line of the notes before the chapter if you can be triggered by this fic.
> 
> 2\. Happy late Halloween, I dressed up as a witch. And gave kids handfuls of candy. It was great.
> 
> 3\. I’m so sorry this chapter took so long. I’m still not completely sure I’m happy with it… I wrote most of it late at night, and there’s only so much editing I can do if I want to publish this eventually.
> 
> 4\. *** MOST IMPORTANT OF THEM ALL*** in this chapter you were introduced to most of the pack. Now. With all of these pack members (who have names, but you don’t know most of them yet) they have a back story. So this is my idea that I want your input on. This fic is not going to have a long, serious sequel. Once it’s done (The ending is awesome, by the way) It’s done. However, I was thinking about making this fic into a series of stories. These stories could be the stories of the pack members, little fics about Stiles’ mom and dad and other family, or Derek’s family life, or Peter pre-fire all set in this verse. Before I get too much of that planned out, I want your opinion on it. Is a set of stories set in this verse about the things I mentioned (or things You suggest) sound like something you all would want to read?
> 
> I will probably do it either way, but your input will decide the stress I put on completing them. If I don’t get any positive responses, then I’ll wait to work on them and they may not be up for months. But if you want to read them, then they’ll be up sooner since they’re just little one shots…
> 
> 5\. Also, The word limit per chapter has (kinda obviously) been eliminated. Now I will just stop a chapter where there’s a good ending.
> 
> 6\. Lastly, I added some relationships from the new plot points I added during this unofficial Hiatus (there’s a few other ships, but I’m gonna keep those secret to surprise you and those are really the only pertinent ones for the next several chapters). Basically everyone gets an oc also… 
> 
> This will be a very long fic. please leave a comment or ask on my Tumblr (Ashley –vh.tumblr.com) with what you think. Thank you for reading, constructive criticism is appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 11/9/13

He was slowly healing.  Not as fast as he needed to if he wanted to run from the burnt ruins of his former home quickly enough to outrun any prowling hunters, but faster than he would have if he were still a beta. 

Derek didn’t hear anyone hiding behind the thick trunks in the forest around them, so he assumed he and Scott were safe for the moment.

“Where are we going?”  Scott asked when Derek slowed about a mile and a half away from the shell of his former home, wincing as his sore muscles tightened like the electricity was still jolting through him.

Derek looked around, trying to find the hidden latch that his ancestors had made when they built the house long before his grandparents were born.  “A safe-house.”   He kicked a pile of soggy leaves and mud, frowning when the memories of Laura making the same motion with the smell of fire and burnt flesh in the air.  He pushed the memory aside.  There are more important things to deal with right now.

The toe of his boot caught the piece of wood covering the door.  Anyone who happened to find this trap door in the middle of the forest would think the water logged rotten wood was just another pile of junk someone dumped away from the path, carried here by wind or rain to its hidden grave.  

Once, when Derek was young, he and his parents went around the forest with piles of wood to make fake doors in different places, just in case…

Derek waved Scott over to help him lift the wood covered metal.  Normally, he wouldn’t need any help, but he was still weak and not up to his full strength yet.

The beta hesitated for a moment before helping the alpha life the hatch and let it fall to the damp forest floor with a clatter.  Old, stale air leaked out of the darkness.  Five years of disuse and mold, and the place still smelled like Laura…

Derek blinked and stood up a little straighter.  He didn’t say anything to Scott as the beta leaned forward to peer into the darkness.  He walked forward to the narrow stairs and ducked below the ceiling where it dipped a bit too low in the doorway.

Scott hesitated again before following Derek down the steps; he stopped at the base of the stairs and looked around at the spacious room hidden below the leaves while Derek went to the table in the center of the room to turn on the lamp. 

The best description for this underground room would be a bomb shelter.   The walls, floor and ceiling were made of stone slabs held up by poles spread around the long room.  It was about the size of a high school classroom with each corner filled with stacks of important things.  A stack of folded cots lined the wall under the stairs, thick blankets were piled on a table in the far corner, and canned food and water bottles lined the remaining walls on shelves above heavy looking chests.  A single large, circular table sat in the center of the room, holding the lamp and three thick books with two chairs set up around it.  Despite all the things piled in this bunker, it was still easily big enough to fit 50 people.

All of it, built for situations like these.

Scott carefully studied the shelves along the walls in the light.  “Who made this?”  Scott asked, running his fingertips along one of the smooth metal shelves.

“My family” Derek said, leaning against the table. 

Scott looked puzzled.  “Why?”  He asked, tilting his head to the side like a puppy.

Derek frowned, “We’re werewolves, Scott.”  He said shortly, “We have to be prepared for situations like these.”

Scott frowned.  They were both silent for a moment before Scott turned, “I have a dance to go to.”

Frankly, Derek didn’t think the little school dance was a wise move with his uncle running around killing people… but Derek was tired.  Still sore from the torture.  So he said nothing.

Once Scott started to head up the stairs, Derek spoke, “Close the hatch.”  He said, “Cover it with leaves.”

Scott didn’t reply.  He walked up the stairs, and a moment later the door fell shut, and the sound of Scott scraping leaves over the wood was the only thing Derek could hear.

Derek sighed once the sound faded and Scott left to the dance.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose.  For a moment he could smell blood and ash and his sister. 

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he stood up straighter.  He was an alpha now.  He couldn’t cry over a 5 year old smell.

He needed to think.  Right now, not being at full strength, hunting his uncle would not be the smart thing to do.  If he found the crazed alpha, the fight would end in Derek’s death.  He needed to wait.

As much as being in this place made his heart twist with sadness, this was the safest place he could go.   He needed to rest.

The cots weren’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than the floor and at the moment, Derek didn’t care.  He just wanted to rest.  So he went under the stairs and pulled a cot off the stack, unfolding it in the farthest corner from the hatch.

He didn’t really need a blanket… but he got one anyway.  Hand stitched quilts made by his grandmother.  She had said that the safe-houses needed to be more human-friendly after the time she had to stay in one of these bunkers and spent the night shivering.

The lock on the hatch door wasn’t needed now either, the hunters shouldn’t even know he’s gone and the only one who knows he’s here is Scott.  He might need to get here, so the door shouldn’t be locked to him.

Derek sat on the cot for a moment, frowning around the room.  He set the cot up in the same place Laura had set up their cots 5 years ago.  He could almost picture her pushing their cots together so she could comfort him while washing the blood off his skin.

Another family member gone… he wondered how long the list of his dead would get before he could add his own name to it.

Anger filled his blood.  It was his fault his family was dead.  His parents… Sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, nieces… everyone.  It was all his fault.  And Kate- 

He should have known better. 

Derek closed his eyes, picturing what it would be like to kill her.  To see her lifeless body when he could still so clearly picture her-

He opened his eyes.  He had proven time and time again, he couldn’t kill her.  Not himself.  No matter how many times he wished for her death in the darkness when he lived in the tiny apartment with Laura.

He unfolded the quilt, shaking it out over the cot and letting it fall over the metal rods around the rim of the uncomfortable bed like his mother used to do when she made the beds…  the fabric was soft under Derek’s fingers, he had grabbed the same blanket that Laura had used to cover the both of them.

Even the five years couldn’t air out the smell of Laura and tears from the fabric.

He curled under the thick blanket, torn between curling deeper into her scent and throwing it away in sadness and anger.

This was all that was left of her now… he should commit her scent to memory again while he had the chance.

While he slept, he dreamt of home.

* * *

 

Derek jolted awake at the pounding of footsteps on top of the hatch.  He was on his feet before he was fully awake, already in a crouch, ready to attack whatever intruder was coming for him.

Slowly, while the footsteps fumbled around on the ground above him, Derek stood up straight, recognizing the voice muttering curses in an angry tone.   Finally, Scott found the hatch of the door and flung it open with more force than was entirely necessary.

The beta stomped down the stairs, his footsteps echoing loudly around the room.  His white shirt was torn and had traces of blood around the tears, he must have ran here too fast to pay attention to the branches and bushes catching his clothes and cutting his skin.

“What happened?”  Derek asked.  None of the wounds seemed to be bleeding anymore, but the boys face told Derek he was still very upset.

Scott ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots in frustration or anger.  “The hunters… Allison” he said, frowning with tears in his eyes.  “She knows.”

Derek frowned.  The revelation must not have ended well.  Derek wasn’t exactly socked by that fact…   Scott’s little Romeo and Juliette love story with the hunter girl was doomed to fail from the start, especially since she didn't know what he was.  But Derek remembered what it was like to be like that.  That young and naive.

He pulled a chair out of the corner and moved it to the table, “Sit.” He said, “The hunters will be looking for you.”

The pair stayed in the bunker for almost an hour, Scott told him everything that happened between him and Allison, pausing to curse her father to the deepest pits of hell for ruining what he had with her.  Scott must be angry to say things like that about the Argent…

Derek didn’t say anything.  He didn’t need to.  Scott didn’t need him to say any false words of comfort.  He knew Derek didn’t approve of his relationship with Allison.  He just needed to vent and a safe place to hide from the hunters.

Luckily enough, that was something Derek could provide.

Scott had started to ask questions shortly after he had told Derek all that had happened that night.  He asked about the bunker, the house, Derek’s family, Peter, everything that the beta had been wondering since he got bit.

Derek was about to open his mouth to speak when a gunshot echoed through the trees.  He stiffened, freezing only for a moment when a scream echoed through the trees.  Scott jumped up and ran up the steps towards the noise.

Leave it to the baby beta to chase after the noise when he should wait and make a solid plan.  Derek sighed before chasing after Scott, hoping to catch up to him before it was too late.

He ran as fast as he dared, there were still hunters around.  But Scott was still a beta, even if Derek ran at half speed, he could catch the boy easily.  He grabbed Scott’s shoulder, making the beta loose balance and fall backward in the dirt.

Scott looked up at Derek with an almost betrayed expression that made Derek want to roll his eyes.  They were less than a quarter mile from the hale house.  If Derek wanted to, he could see where the sounds of struggle were coming from, with muffled shouts of pain from Kate, and angry growls from his uncle.  “You have to-”

Before Derek could continue the advice, something whooshed beside his head, nearly cutting his ear.  He didn’t hesitate when he closed his eyes, trying to bring his arm up to shield his eyes when the arrow hit the tree and exploded like cannon fire. 

His ears were ringing when the Hunter girl stepped out of the tree line, notching an arrow and letting it fly without a seconds hesitation.  Derek felt the pain before he could react to the arrow coming towards his arm.  He fell backward next to Scott who hadn’t covered his eyes in time.  The beta lay in the dirt, staring at where the girl was standing with sadness in his eyes.

Allison notched another arrow and pulled it back, pointing between the wolves on the ground.  “Don’t move.” She said, her face calm and her voice dark. 

She was very good.  If Derek wasn’t able to hear the racing of her heart or smell the fear on her skin, he might have thought she believed in what she was doing.

A loud crash echoed through the trees.  A body being thrown through old, burnt, decaying wood and landing hard.  Allison flinched, but her arrow didn’t falter.

Derek pulled himself to a sitting position.  He grabbed the base of the arrow in his muscle.  He gritted his teeth and carefully pulled the arrow out of his skin, barely allowing himself to hiss in pain.  Once he threw the arrow on the ground, he could feel the burn of the skin and muscle knit itself back together.

When the shout sounded out of the basement of the shell of a home, Allison almost turned.  But she shook her head, her black ponytail flicking back and forth in the moonlight. 

Her indecision isn’t an Argent quality.  Especially in the women.   “You know what’s going to happen.  Don’t you Allison?”  Derek said, frowning when the girl flinched at the gunshot in the air.

“Shut up.”  She said, her hands starting to shake on her drawstring.

“She’s fighting a feral alpha alone.” Derek said, sitting up a bit straighter.

Allison tightened her grip on the bow, pointing her arrow in the middle of Derek’s chest.  “I said shut up!”  tears welled in the girl’s eyes.

Screams filled the air, “She told you to stay behind, didn’t she?”  Derek said, ignoring the arrow and the screams as tears fell down Allison’s cheeks.  _This hunter girl is nothing like her aunt,_ Derek thought as the arrow tilted to the ground at Derek’s feet.   

The screams intensified, shaping into an apology before cutting off completely.  Allison turned, a torn look crossing her features.  “She’s going to die.” Derek knew he was almost there…

Allison sniffled, and turned back to Derek.  “She’s still-” She started, her words cutting off before asking her question.

Derek listened closely, the only thing his alpha hearing could detect is shuffling around… like the scraping of metal on the concrete floor of the basement and he could barely make out more than one heartbeat.  “Yes.” He said, slowly getting to his feet, not flinching when she quickly pointed the arrow at him again.

“Why should I believe you?” She hissed, more tears dripping down her cheeks.  “You’re all liars.” 

Derek didn’t say anything for a moment.  He frowned, “Do you really favor the alternative?”

Allison glared at him as Scott slowly got to his feet, frowning at the bow in Allison’s hand. 

The girl’s glare was quickly replaced with a look of confusion.  She tilted her head towards the house, sniffing the air.  “Is that fire?” 

As soon as the words had left her mouth, petrified screams pierced the silence, making Allison flinch and turn wide doe eyes to the house.  The poor girl had probably never heard the real life screams of terrified people as they burnt.

The bow fell to the ground; the girl had already sprinted off before the weapon started to fall. 

Derek didn’t take the time to think about what he was doing.  The girl was in a bad position… he knew what she would try to do.  She was going to die trying to save her aunt.

The screams intensified a few feet from the edge of the tree line before cutting off completely.  He couldn’t hear her heartbeat over the cheerful crackle of the flames, but he didn’t have to.  She was dead.

Allison broke through the tree line and continued to run to the house.  He couldn’t let her do that… He grabbed her elbow, making her skid to a halt and tried to pull away.  She turned, tears streaming down her face.  “Let go!” She whispered, pushing at his hand with all her might.

Derek grabbed her shoulders, making her stay put.  He tried to make her stay still long enough to look at him, “Allison.” He said, tightening his grip on her shoulders and giving her a little shake to get her to look at him.  “She’s dead.”

She shook her head, her mouth contorting into a deep pout.  Her hands balled into fists, hitting Derek’s chest in a last-ditch effort to rescue her family.

A piece of the ruined roof crashed to the floor, making the girl flinch and sag against the wolf’s hold.  Scott slowly came up behind the pair, gently putting his hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Derek stepped back, letting Allison fall against Scott and start to sob as the boy soothed her.   Once the girl was in Scott’s arms, Derek turned back to the house.  The flames ate their way through the walls, trying to find any scrap of wood that hasn’t already been eaten away.

This fire looked different than the first one.  This fire wasn’t the harsh blue that covered every wall, it wasn’t as big… Derek could barely feel the heat of the flames on his skin like he could the first time he watched his home burn.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, watching the flames die with a sobbing hunter curled around a beta at his feet.  The moon was still high above the trees, but it was sinking fast.  Derek cursed himself for it.  Peter was here.  He was here and Derek stood around when he should have been hunting him.

Derek stepped forward, the house quickly becoming an ember in the moonlight.  He couldn’t hear any heartbeats over the sobbing hunter and the crackling fire, so he slowly walked around the house, careful of anything hiding in the shadows.

The shadows danced around in the flames, making Derek’s shadow flicker back and forth.  Nothing was out of place in the forest around the burning shell of a house, and the forest around him was deathly silent.  Derek moved around the back of the house, frowning at the smell of gasoline in the air, leading away from the house.  Peter set the fire then left through the secret basement door that his parents had made.

He walked away from the smell of burning corpse, following the weak smell of gasoline and something else… something sharper.  Fear.  Fear and sweat mixed with the gasoline…

But it wasn’t Peter’s fear.  It smelled... almost younger.  Derek focused on the smell, walking very slowly to the tree line.  His sense of smell wasn’t this powerful before he became the alpha… on any other day, Derek blocks most of the smells around him.  He hasn’t been an alpha long, but it was one of the first things he had done after Laura-

It took quite a bit of concentration to focus on any one smell without getting bombarded with every smell in the area.  Derek stopped next to the small dirt road that cut into the trees, it was barely big enough to fit a car, and it was completely hidden from the main road outside of the forest, yet Derek could see fresh tire tracks in the mud.

_Peter didn’t need to use a car,_ Derek thought to himself, turning away from the tracks leading down the road.  There were no sounds coming from the end of the road, and not a single car drove past the hidden entrance.

A bright flash of color in the grass caught his eye from a few feet away.   He stared down at the white rope partially hidden in the grass. 

He knelt in the grass, carefully picking the short rope out of the dirt and inspecting it.  It was tied into a knot in the middle… like it was tied into a circle and then cut.  Derek frowned.  There wasn’t any reason for this rope to be here.

This little piece of rope had the same mix of fear, gasoline and youth… Derek carefully raised the rope, breathing in the scent of it.

The smell of fear and blood nearly gagged him, but he continued to dig through the scent till he could find who had their hands tied with this rope.   

Underneath the blood, gasoline and fear, Derek could make out some hint of something… some chemical… He’s smelled that before.

Scott came running around the house, skidding to a stop in front of the alpha with Allison jogging behind him with tears still streaming down her cheeks.  “Did you find Peter?”  Scott asked, wrapping his arm around Allison’s shoulders to comfort her.

“Scott,” Derek said, trying to figure out the easiest way to say what he needed to say.  He turned around, dropping the rope back to the ground.  “Find Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Derek’s POV, and it starts right before the start of this story, right after he got out of the basement and away from Kate. Maybe 2 or 3 ish hours before Stiles and Peter arrived at the Hale House, to a bit after the first chapter ended. So it’s kind of a prequel. Enjoy.
> 
> I also rewatched Season 1, and figured out that this story starts right about the time “Formality” ends and “Code Breaker” begins. Maybe half way through Code Breaker. But we’ll get more into the beginning of this fic once I write the mini-fics. (the safe-house will make a reappearance, too) It might be a little prequel of this whole thing.
> 
> And how are you all liking the longer chapters? Should I reinstate the word count cap or keep them as long as they need to be?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/4/13

The sun broke through the trees surrounding the hospital, casting the dark clouds pink and sending gleaming gold light into the plain white room and making the pale girl on the hospital bed glow.

John had been in the girl’s hospital room, waiting.  His son had had “The biggest crush on Lydia since ever” and he had expected Stiles to come to visit her…  But he’s been waiting here in her room for hours, and the sheriff hadn’t gotten so much as a text from him, and all of the sheriff’s calls went straight to voicemail.

A few hours after the dance had been cut short, he was angry.  Now, nearly seven hours later with the sun rising high in the sky, he was just worried.   After Claudia died, Stiles went out of his way to text his father many times a day to make sure nothing was wrong.  If John didn’t answer quickly enough, it meant phone calls and, once, Stiles leaving school to check on the sheriff.

This wasn’t like Stiles. 

The phone in his hand vibrated.  John raised the phone so quickly it nearly slipped to the ground in his haste.  Scott’s name flashed from the screen, showing the picture that Stiles took after Scott’s surgery to take his wisdom teeth out last year. 

Every time Stiles sees it, he laughs at his friend’s unconscious face, with his mouth hanging open…

John quickly answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear in time to hear the honk of a car horn and screech of tires.  “Sheriff!” Scott nearly yelled into the phone.  “I can’t find Stiles.  I looked all over town and there was a fire and his jeep is gone an-”

“Breathe.” the sheriff said, ignoring the twist in his gut at the mention of fire.  Stiles was fine.  He couldn’t afford to think any other way now.   “Where is the fire?” 

Scott took a deep shuddering breath, “The Hale house” he said.

John was already on his way out of the hospital, fishing his keys out of his pocket while he walked.  “What are you doing there?” He asked, walking quickly to his car.

“I-” The boy hesitated for a split second, nearly choking on his words.  “I told you I checked the whole town!”  He said with his voice a bit too high.

The sheriff filed that lie away for later.  There were more important things to worry about now.  “Stay away from the house” he warned.  That house has burned twice now; it was bound to be unstable.  “I’m on my way.”

Scott hung up without acknowledging the requests. 

John didn’t allow himself to worry yet.  Stiles could have just… run off somewhere and forgot to charge his phone.  That must be what happened.

He called the fire department as he sped off to the Hale House, trying his hardest to keep his speed in check.  He was the sheriff after all; he couldn’t set a bad example.

When he got to the house, the ruined wood was still smoking and the stink of burnt flesh and gasoline hung thick in the air.  He tried to ignore the worry nagging at him.  There’s no reason to think the body that burned somewhere here was Stiles…

The fire truck pulled up then, stopping near the smoldering pile of rubble and piling out of the seats and circling the house. 

Scott paced along the edge of the trees with his arms folded across his chest and his face set in a scowl.  The boy’s car was nowhere to be seen… He must have parked somewhere else.

The sheriff walked up to Scott, not surprised to see tear tracks on the boy’s cheek.  “What happened?”  John asked.

While the firemen set up their hoses and ran inside to find the source of the burnt flesh odor, Scott told him that after the dance had been cut short, he left with Allison.  She’s at home now, but the sheriff knew that.  The girl had visited Lydia with tears in her eyes earlier that night.  Scott wasn’t with her.

After that, Scott said that he went to check on Stiles, because Stiles left before the dance was over.  Scott didn’t know why.

When Stiles wasn’t at home, Scott went looking for him.  It seems that Stiles has disappeared without a trace.

The sheriff asked Scott to sit in the car when the fire investigator came out of the ruins of the house.  “Sheriff.”  The investigator greeted him with a scowl on his face.  “The body’s in the basement.”

“is it…?”  The sheriff asked.  Once they had been there for an hour, one of the firemen had wandered close enough to him and Scott to hear that Stiles was missing, so they all knew what he must be thinking.

“It’s female.”   John was hoping the relief didn’t show too much on his face.  The investigator continued, “the fire started in the basement, gasoline was poured on the floor, the vic’s hands were tied and attached to a pole while the fire was lit.  There was an evidence of a struggle.”

So she was alive when she burned.  “Any other evidence?”

The investigator sighed.  “Shoe prints.  Corner near the stairs, fire didn’t damage them.  Also,” He pointed to the small road at back of the house, barely visible in the bright afternoon sun.   “A cut rope and Tire tracks.  They’re from a jeep.”

A lot of people drive jeeps…

The phone on the sheriff’s hip rang.  He frowned when he saw that it was from a number he didn’t recognize.   “Hello?”  He said, a small part of him hoping that it would be Stiles.

“Yes this is Officer De Ville from the Sheriff’s department in Humboldt County.  We got a call about an abandoned jeep just off the interstate.”  John’s heart sank.  “We ran the plates and the jeep belongs to your son, and he cannot be found.  You’re listed as his emergency contact.”

Stiles’ jeep was in Nevada, and it appeared that Stiles was at the scene of the crime where a woman is dead.

Great.

* * *

 

The first 24 hours are the most critical time in a missing persons’ case.

A single day can change everything in a case.  Especially for a child.

After 24 hours, the chance of finding the missing person alive decreases by almost half.

In less than ten minutes, Stiles will have been missing for 24 hours.

The sheriff had filled out a missing persons report hours ago, and since the jeep had been found in another state, the FBI had been called.  

The fire investigators had called the fire arson (obviously.  Anyone with a nose can tell the gasoline had started the fire) and Stiles’ blood had been on the rope, along with traces of gasoline, and a very small amount of unknown blood. 

The only reason they know it’s not Stiles’ blood is because it’s a different blood type.

So the FBI has called the case a kidnapping and removed the sheriff from the case.  Their goal now is to both solve the murder, and find Stiles to bring him home safe before it was too late.

Melissa and Scott had come over to the Stilinski home shortly after they sent him home, telling him to get some rest, if there was any new details in his son’s case, he would be notified. 

Scott had fallen asleep on the couch, with his arms folded beneath a blanket that his mother had put on him when he eventually passed out from exhaustion on the couch, waiting for word about his friend.  This was hard on all of them. 

“You should sleep.”  Melissa said over her cup of coffee that was long past warm.

The sheriff didn’t respond to her.  As soon as the FBI had sent him home for “rest”, he had sat both the home telephone and his cell phone on the kitchen table and waited.  He ate what Melissa had made for him and Scott, he didn’t really pay any attention to what she sat in front of him.  He was nearly sick with worry.  There was no way he could sleep now.

They had just passed the 24 hour window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the morning after the first chapter, so it’s happening along side or right before chapter two. Also this is about 6 or 7 hours after chapter 5.
> 
> Also, I apologize not only for the long wait, but for the possible lower quality of the next few chapters. I wrote chapters 6-10 (and a few other bits) during Nanowrimo, and there’s only so much editing I can do.
> 
> I hope you liked it, please tell me if this is a good day, because I might have this day be the weekly update day so long as I have chapters to update. If not today, then Sunday I think.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/11/13

That night, Stiles dreamed he could fly.  He spread his arms wide, next to the rusted white metal table and soared high above the horrible, twisted, black wood of the house he was taken to. 

He flew above the clouds, turned away from the sun and followed the moon to a beautiful valley filled with laughter and flowers and moonlight.

Stiles woke up with a soft smile.

The golden afternoon light against the plain white walls replaced the soft smile and contentment with a blank look and dread in his heart. 

His head pounded with every beat of his heart and his eyes felt puffy and sore from crying himself to sleep against Peter’s chest while the wolf wrapped his arms around Stiles, comforting him with soothing touches. 

Tears filled his eyes again, and he made no move to wipe them away.  That was most definitely not what he wanted his first sexual experience with another person to be like… so he laid there.

Stiles didn’t know how long he stayed in bed, with his tears dripping down his face, staining the pillow under his head and making his nose itch.

He flinched at the crack of knuckles on the wooden door, but he said nothing.  He didn’t want to talk to anyone that may be there… Maybe they would just leave.

Another tap sounded through the room, harder than the first.  “Stiles?  Stiles, it’s Addie.”  She paused, waiting for Stiles to answer her.  “I know you’re awake.”

Stiles huffed.  “Come in then” he snapped, wiping the tears off his face and sitting up.  There was a big wardrobe pushed against the wall at the foot of the bed… it must have been put there while he slept…

Addie carefully unlocked the door and pushed it open.  “Good morning, Stiles.” She said pleasantly.  She carried a tray with a huge omelet and a bottle of what looked like wine. 

Stiles didn’t say anything when she sat the plate on the small table near the bed, and pulled the cork out of the bottle.  She poured the wine into a glass and handed it out to him.  When he didn’t take it, she pouted.  “I think this will help you know Stiles.  Trust me; it’ll take the edge off.”  She said, giving the glass a little shake.

“You’ve killed an innocent person.” Stiles said in a flat voice.  “Why should I trust anything you say?”

Addie’s face darkened, her eyes flashed blue.  She carefully sat the glass beside the plate and sat in the chair that Stiles didn’t remember being there earlier with a terrifying grace.  “The ‘innocent’ person I killed,” she said darkly, emphasizing the innocent to make it seem like a joke.  “Was my husband.”  She smiled, showing slightly pointed teeth. 

She leaned forward, her smile widening when Stiles leaned away.  “I slit open his throat with my claws after I was healed enough from the beating he gave me as a wedding present.”  Stiles didn’t say anything, so she continued, “As for why you trust me?  Well…” she leaned back, her loose curls bouncing a little with the force of it, “What other choice do you have?”

Stiles was silent as Addie stared at him.  He carefully picked the glass off the table and sniffed at it… Stiles still didn’t trust her, it didn’t hurt to check.  Not that it did any good anyway.  He wouldn’t be able to tell if alcohol he was drinking was drugged.  Not only does he not know what drugged anything smells like, he doesn’t even know what normal wine should smell like.

He took a small sip.  It tasted… _really_ good.  Stiles didn’t stop to comment on the fact that he remembered tasting wine when he was young.  He spit it back out because it tasted so awful.  He drank deeper from the glass until he tilted his head back to catch every last drop.

Stiles slowly lowered the glass, blinking as his head stopped pounding.  Addie was staring at him with a soft smile on her dark lips.  Stiles reached forward to the bottle but Addie pulled it back.  “You can have more after you eat.”  She pulled the plate from the table, holding it under Stiles’ nose. 

Stiles silently took the plate from her.  It smelled delicious, and Stiles didn’t mind when he ate the food quickly.  “How about some Television, Stiles?” Addie asked, “How does that sound?”

When Stiles didn’t respond, she got up and walked to the wardrobe against the wall.  She smiled over her shoulder at him as she pulled open the doors on the dark wood shelf, revealing a large television hidden behind the doors.

“What do you think of it?”  Addie said.  “This was the best one the store had to offer on such short notice.”

She picked up the remote control and hit the power button, bringing up some national news station.  When Stiles looked up, he saw his own face on the screen.  “Turn it up” he said to Addie.  She only hesitated for a second before turning the volume up so his human ears could hear what the blond news woman said.

“His name is Stiles Stilinski,” she said. 

Someone must have taught her how to pronounce his name… every time someone tries to pronounce it, they always get it wrong. 

“It is believed that two nights ago he was taken from school grounds after a dance in Beacon Hills, California.” She kept her face solemn.  “The boy’s jeep was found just over the California State line in Nevada early yesterday morning, making this case a federal issue.” 

God, his dad must be worried sick…

“The FBI has teamed up with the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department, working tirelessly to find the boy before it’s too late.  They’re asking all of the western United States to keep a watchful eye out for the boy.” 

The camera cut away from the blond woman to put Stiles’ picture up on half the screen.  The other half of the screen had a bulleted list of his stats… eyes and hair color, height, weight… But Stiles didn’t pay any attention to that.  It wasn’t like it was any new information. 

The picture was from the day after his 16th birthday, the day he always chose to have his party.  “Party” wasn’t exactly the right term… Every year for his birthday all he wanted was for Scott to come over to his house where they’d eat the Halloween candy from the night before and eat cake and watch movies and play video games until they pass out. 

The picture was of Stiles smiling up at Ms. McCall when his dad has given him his birthday present. 

That picture wasn’t even taken a month ago…

The camera cut away from the picture back to the blond woman, but the screen was expanded to include an old man with graying hair and a thick neck.   They were both wearing dark blue…

“It’s such a shame when a child goes missing.” The man said, leaning towards the woman.

“It really is.” The woman said, “I hope he’s brought back home safe before it’s too late.”

Addie hit the power button, turning the television off, replacing the news cast with silence.

“I want to go home.”  Stiles said, tears filling his eyes again.

Addie frowned.  “You can’t.”  She said, “Not yet.”

The breath rushed from his lungs as a tear slipped from his eye, “Why am I here?”  He asked, “Why can’t I go?”

Addie didn’t say anything for a moment, pouring more wine into his glass.  She handed it to him before continuing, “The alpha thinks he’s in _Love_.”  She said with a scoff, “You’ve been brought into a dangerous situation Stiles.  One that you can’t get away from easily.” She kept her voice low and deep, speaking slowly and intensely.  “I’m here to help you.”  She gestured to the drink in Stiles’ hands, telling him to drink. 

Once Stiles had drained the glass again, she continued.  “I’m on your side.”

The ache around his heart at the thought of his dad being so worried about him faded, leaving emptiness behind it.

They’re silent for a while as Stiles sits in the bed and thinks about what he’s going to do.  When he can’t think of anything to do, he speaks, “What am I expected to do all day?”  He asks Addie.

Addie smiles sadly.  “We could play a game, watch a movie, I could tell you a story… Anything you want, really.  I’m here to make sure you stay _content_.” She smirked as she said content like it was meant to be a joke…

Maybe it was.

“I want to go outside.”  He scowls at the bed, “I can’t stand to be in this room any longer than I have to.”

Addie pouts, “You can’t go outside.  I’m to keep you in this room until Peter gets back from his office.”

Stiles huffed, pushing the covers off his legs to start pacing the room like a caged animal.  “So I have to stay in this room for the rest of my life?”  He asked angrily, throwing his hands around as he spoke.

Addie laughs, “Of course not.”  She said, “Peter will let you wander the house to your heart’s content.”  The smirk slid off her face, “Once he trusts you enough to give you that reward.”

He moved back to the bed to perch on the edge with his legs dangling off the mattress.  He folded his hands on his lap, and stared down at the floor as Addie turned the TV back on, flipping through the channels until she stopped on the history channel, some documentary on the history of Native Americans in the US in as the end of their week on the History of Thanksgiving.

They were both silent for a while, listening to the quite narrator talk about the different tribes in the west.  “Am I ever going to be able to go back home?”  Stiles whispered.

“I don’t know.”  She said, “That’s up to you.” 

Stiles stared at her, if it meant going home, he would do just about anything.

“Everything has a cost, Stiles.”  She said.  “You have to figure out what you’re willing to pay.”

Addie picked the glass up off the bedside table, filled it with the dark wine again and passed it to Stiles.  “Drink.”  She said, turning her attention back to the television.

Stiles thought about what she said, draining the glass for the third time that morning.  What would be the cost of going home?  Being trapped in a house guarded by murderous werewolves certainly didn’t bode well for him, but what could he do to leave?

He was just a human.  He’s no match against more than 20 werewolves who are ordered to keep him here.

 “Lay down, Stiles.”  Addie said, her voice startling him as he tried to fall asleep sitting at the edge of the bed.  “Get some rest.”

Too tired to question why he was so inexplicably tired after being awake for such a short time, Stiles fumbled with the sheets, and pulled them back, crawling back inside and wrapping his heavy arms around his middle.

Addie started to hum her little tune, and Stiles fell asleep almost instantly.

* * *

 

Stiles flinched awake as warm hands touched his shoulder.  When he opened his eyes, he frowned in confusion at the warm golden light filtered through the window.  His body felt stiff like he’d been lying in the same position for a long time.

This was… odd.  Stiles didn’t normally sleep this much.  And when he slept, he tossed and turned so much that falling out of the bed was not a rare occurrence. 

Must be the Adderall leaving his system… he never stopped taking the pills since he was first given them.  So maybe sleeping a lot was the symptom of withdrawal…

Stiles sat up and stretched, looking around the room that was now painted gold in afternoon sunlight.  He didn’t flinch when he saw Peter sitting on the bed beside him, looking down at him with an unreadable expression on his face.  His head felt fuzzy and slow, like he was still half asleep.

“It’s time for dinner.”  Peter said.  He stood up and held his hand out to Stiles. The boy stared at the hand for a moment before slowly reaching out and taking Peter’s hand, expecting to be yanked to his feet. 

Peter gently stepped back, letting Stiles set the pace he wanted to get out of the bed.  When Stiles was standing beside Peter, the wolf released the boy’s hand.  “And if you behave,” Peter said, gesturing for Stiles to follow as he walked to the door, “I’ve got a gift for you.”

Stiles said nothing as Peter led them back to the big dining room already filled with betas who all fell silent and stood as they entered.  There were fewer stolen looks at Stiles as they passed them; they stared at the floor with their throats bared to their alpha.

The five betas and Adelaide stood in front of their chairs at the main table, and Addie stood in the same place she sat in the day before.  She smiled at him from behind the curtain of her hair that fell forward when she bared her neck.

He tried not to hesitate as Peter pulled his chair out like they were in some kind of rom-com.  He sat down next to Addie and frowned as she discreetly gave him a thumbs up that she hid in the folds of her dress. 

Peter didn’t touch Stiles once as they walked to the dining room.

The betas in the room sat as one a second after Peter sat in his spot at the table.  Addie looked at him and mouthed, _“You did good.”_ Stiles didn’t respond.

Peter got Stiles’ food again, and after he got his own, he gestured to the betas to start eating. 

Stiles still hadn’t said a word when he started eating without complaint.  He watched the betas with the fuzziness starting to clear from his mind.  “Where did you find all of these betas?”  Stiles asked quietly, his voice slightly deeper from such a long time without talking.

Peter looked over his pack, “All over the country.”  He said, with a smirk. 

That made sense.  If this many kids disappeared from one area, even if there were a few months between them, any local police would have pieced it together.  If Peter attacked kids from many different towns like Beacon Hills, the local police departments might not have any reason to check national databases…

How long had Peter been building this pack?  How long had it taken to get this many kids?

Stiles ate silently, not really tasting the food.  He thought about what he heard on the news that morning.  His jeep was found in Nevada… he didn’t think Peter drove him that far from home that night, but apparently he had. 

“Where are we?”  He wondered aloud. When he first woke up in this place, he assumed he was still in his home state… but since that news report, he didn’t know anymore.

Addie frowned at him, but Peter smirked, “Not in California.”

Stiles frowned.  They must not want him to know what state he’s in.  He can’t really say he’s surprised… but he had been hoping that he’d get at least that little bit of information.

He didn’t know what he’d do with it if he got it.  Maybe use someone’s phone to call his dad once he escapes from this place. 

Because he _will_ escape.  One way or another, Stiles will get back home.

Before he knew it, dinner was over.  Peter waved his hand and six of the betas who sat nearest the alpha’s table stood and nearly ran to the table, picking up the plates from the alpha and the six others sitting at the main table. 

When Stiles made to stand, Peter grabbed his arm, pulling him back to his seat.  “Not yet.”  He said, keeping his hand on Stiles’ forearm.  Addie smiled over at him and grabbed a glass from the small stack in front of her.  She dragged the bottle of wine with it, and poured it into the glass. 

She held it out for him with a smile.  When he reached for it with the hand that Peter wasn’t holding in place, Addie pulled it back.  “Slowly,” She said, slowly handing the glass back to him.

Stiles reached for it again, slower this time, she let him take it.  He stared at her in confusion as he raised the glass to his lips.

It took more willpower than he’d like to admit to stop drinking the wine, but he only took a few sips before carefully setting the glass on the wooden table.  Addie smiled widely at him for following her order. 

The betas seated at the tables stood and formed a single file line in front of Stiles’ table, each of them holding something small in their hands. 

All in all, it made Stiles a little nervous.  “What’s happening?”  He asked, pressing himself against the chairs high back.

Addie smiled at him, though the smile didn’t quite touch her eyes.  “It’s a tradition, Stiles.” She said quietly.  “The pack gives gifts to the alpha’s new mate to promote longevity of the pack, and gain favor with the alpha.”

Stiles stared at her with wide eyes.  She nudged the glass towards him, reminding him to drink it.  He took the glass without a word; ignoring her order and draining the wine in one go.

She frowned, but picked the glass from his hand and refilled the clear glass with dark wine and set it in front of him without a word.

Stiles sat in his chair with Peter’s hand on his forearm, keeping him still, while the betas sat gifts in front of him with their necks bared in complete silence.  After they sat their small gift down on the table, they would turn and quickly walk back to their spot at the tables, pick up their plates and leave the dining room.

The whole process took barely five minutes, and when it was done, Stiles had a good sized pile of gifts from the pack… There were new books and movies that had just been released on DVD, a small box of fancy candy, and a small golden snow globe that a girl who didn’t even look 15 years old sat on the table with her scared eyes staring at her feet.

The betas who were seated at Stiles’ table with Peter didn’t stand.  They watched with bored expressions as the gifts were given.  Once the last beta sat their gift in front of Stiles and left the room, they all stood. 

Stiles sat his now empty glass on the table, amazed that he managed to sit there with Peter’s hand on his arm without completely freaking out…

“Stiles.”  Peter said, getting his attention from where it had drifted off, “These are the beta’s you should remember.” 

He looked up at the five betas he didn’t know the names of, and Addie who moved in front of the table while he zoned out.  “What about the others?”  He asked, glancing between Peter and the betas.

Peter smirked, “They don’t matter.”

Stiles frowned as Addie stepped forward.  “You already know my name, of course.”  She said with a smile.  Her hands disappeared in her sleeves, reappearing a moment later with a small bundle of books that were hidden away in her dress.  “My gifts to you are books that my mother gave to me.  One on the history of werewolves,” she said, carefully handing him the old book bound in leather.  “One book of magic,” she placed another heavy leather bound book, and she held up the last book, “and a book on fae mythology.” 

She handed the book to Stiles and gave a small curtsy, stepping backward to stand beside Adelaide who was holding a piece of paper in front of her like a shield.

Peter tightened his grip on Stiles’ arm, gesturing to the short man that seemed to be made completely of muscle with graying hair and dark, almost black eyes and a harsh, almost frightening look on his face.  He was holding a small bow, with shiny tan wood.  “This is Gideon.”  Peter said, “It is his responsibility to make sure the betas know how to fight.”

Gideon nodded, holding the bow up for Stiles to inspect.  “When you can be trusted,” he said, “I’ll teach you to use this.” 

Peter glared at him with red eyes, making Gideon’s eyes flash blue.  “Go put it away, Gideon.”  Gideon hesitated.  “Now.”  Peter said in a dark tone that made Stiles’ skin crawl in fear.

Gideon turned and walked out of the door at the far end with the bow.

Another man stepped forward in Gideon’s place.  “Stiles, this is Dylan.”  He looked about 30, with inky black hair and green eyes.  He smiled at Stiles.  “He’s the legal advisor.”  Peter said.

“Legal advisor?”  Stiles said, frowning as Dylan gave a very theatrical bow.  Pressure had started to build behind his eyes, the headache slowly returning.

Dylan smiled as he straightened his shoulders.  “I keep the cops from sniffing around.” He said with a smile that showed too much teeth.  “My gift,” he said, “besides the gift of my very presence,” he smirked, “is this book.”  He held out a pretty new looking book for Stiles to take.

Stiles gently took the thick book from Dylan’s hand; he opened the cover and read the title.  _The Codex._ “That is the law book.”  Dylan said, “It’s the rules we absolutely _have_ to follow.”

“For now.”  Peter said with a smirk.

Dylan smirked at his alpha before giving them a small bow and walking out of the room, allowing another man with shoulder length blond hair and a strong jaw stepped forward and sat a small box on the table in front of Stiles with a glare.

“This is Charlie.”  Peter said in a warning tone, returning the glare that the beta gave Stiles.  “He is in charge of finances.”  And he clearly didn’t like Stiles…

Charlie said nothing as he gave his small bow and turned to walk out of the dining room.

A tall man with light brown eyes and a shiny bald head smirked at the floor.  He looked up and smiled at the alpha and Stiles, “This is Tyler.”  Peter said, using the hand that wasn’t holding Stiles’ arm to rub his temples with his eyes closed.

“I am in charge of security for the pack.”  Tyler said, he pulled a small gun out of his pants pocket.  “Gideon can teach you to use this too.”  He said, carefully holding the gun for Stiles to inspect, but not allowing him to touch it.

Stiles scoffed, “I already know how to shoot a gun.”  He said, frowning at the gun.

Tyler only smiled.  “For now, this will be in the armory.” He turned and walked out of the dining room trough the door closest to Stiles’ table. 

Peter looked up as Addie and Adelaide approached the table.  The child smiled shyly at Stiles and looked at Addie as she modeled how to curtsy, she mimicked the action and carefully put the piece of paper in front of Stiles and rushed back to hide her face in Addie’s skirt.

Stiles smiled at the girls actions.  Psychopath spawn or not, she was a pretty cute kid.  He reached forward to pick up the piece of paper.  He turned it over in his hands, staring at the crayon drawing of the house.

She drew four people off to the side of the house, Addie with her long dress and straight black hair, she drew Stiles next to Addie with a single line of brown on his head, meant to be his hair, Adelaide drew herself half the size of the rest of the people wearing a purple dress with long brown spirals for hair.  She drew Peter further away from the group, with dark brown lines for hair.  

Each of them had wide smiles.

Stiles looked up from the picture to see Addie smiling at him with Adelaide peeking out from Addie’s skirt.  Stiles smiled at the little girl, “Thank you for the picture.” He said.  “It’s very pretty.”

The girl beamed at him, hiding part of her face with the fabric from Addie’s dress.  Addie knelt down beside the girl, lightly resting her chin on the girl’s shoulder.  “Why don’t you run up to your room and get ready for bed?”  She said, smiling as Adelaide ran off with a smile.

Peter stood once his daughter left the room, taking his hand off Stiles’ arm.  Stiles didn’t stand up right away.  He stared at the pile of gifts on the table in front of him.

“I’ll have your gifts taken upstairs.”  Addie said, picking Stiles’ now empty glass up off the table to refill it.  She sat the glass in front of Stiles, nudging it forward a little when Stiles didn’t reach out for it.

After a second more of silence, Stiles took the glass off the table and drained the glass completely.  The pressure in his temples faded away to a pleasant emptiness, and his eyelids felt heavy again.

Peter held his hand out to help Stiles out of the chair.  He was too tired to even care as he gently took the hand offered to him and got up.  He rolled his shoulders and sighed when Peter let his hand fall to his side.

Addie smiled at Stiles, tucking a bit of her hair behind her ear.  “I’ll see you tomorrow Stiles.”  She said, “Sleep well.”

Stiles nodded at her in response.  Then she left, leaving Peter to lead Stiles back up the stairs to the room.  They said nothing as they walked.  Stiles’ mind was silent as he quickly walked after Peter. 

No thoughts, no worries…

Nothing.

It was kind of peaceful.

Stiles barely even noticed when Peter sat him on the bed in the darkness of the room and told him to be still.  He didn’t bother moving when Peter walked out of the room and locked the door.  What’s the point of moving anyway?  It’s not like he could go anywhere.

Peter came back a moment later, the sound of unlocking the door was like an alarm bell for Stiles.  He looked up as Peter walked in holding a laptop in his hands.

“I have your gift, Stiles.”  Peter said, sitting by the boy on the edge of the bed, holding the laptop out for the boy to take.

Stiles took the laptop numbly, gently running his fingers over the smooth black surface of the laptop.  “A laptop?”  He asked, looking up at Peter.

Peter nodded.  “The Hale Bestiary.” 

Stiles opened the laptop and turned it on.  There was no password needed.  The desktop only had a .pdf file and the recycle bin in front of a plain black background.  Stiles felt a stirring of hope in his chest… a laptop meant wifi, and wifi meant a possibility to contact his dad or someone who could help him. 

The little flutter of hope in his chest died at the little red x over the symbol.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. 

Stiles quickly clicked on the .pdf, not wanting to hesitate too much longer.  The file opened to show him photocopied pages out of a book.  He scrolled down, past the title page with the simple title _Bestiary,_ with The Hale Family written in ornate letters. 

“This is the bestiary that my family has been working on since the beginning of the family tree.”  Peter said.

Stiles said nothing.  He scrolled down again, reaching a full page black and white drawing of a wolf below the full moon.  It was a very beautiful drawing… trees surrounded the wolf with dark eyes and thick black fur, making the wolf nearly invisible in all the shades of grey.

He frowned.  Who would put werewolves first on the list of things that go bump in the night?  He scrolled on, past the pages and pages written about werewolves to the next creepy crawly thing that was written about.

The next picture was a skeletal woman in a long robe with long, clumped white hair floating off the ground next to a simple square window.  The next page read ‘Shtriga’.

“There’s no organization to this at all.”  Stiles muttered to himself, trapping his lip between his teeth.

Peter scoffed quietly beside him.  He reached onto Stiles’ lap and pulled the laptop away from the boy.  “You can organize it later.  It’s time to sleep now.”  Peter shut the laptop, plunging the room into darkness again.

The wolf moved around the room, Stiles heard him place the laptop in the bookcase and return to the other edge of the bed reaching across the bed to Stiles…

“Peter?”  Stiles said quietly, the fuzziness in his head slowly slipping away from him.

The wolf’s hand traced his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to work out the tension from the boy’s shoulders.  “Hm?” he said, tracing Stiles’ spine.

Stiles’ heart beat faster.  He took a deep breath, trying to slow the rapid tattoo of his heart.  “I can’t be your-” he cut himself off… He couldn’t say that word without completely freaking out.  “I mean I don’t exactly have the ability to-” he huffed, frustrated at not being able to put what he meant into words

“How can you be my mate if you’re not a woman?”  Peter asked, tightening his grip on Stiles’ shoulders almost enough to cause him pain. 

Stiles nodded and bit his lip, trying to control his heartbeat as the pleasant emptiness left his head.

“I’m not looking for another child, Stiles.  I’ve already got one of those.”  He said, he leaned forward, breathing along Stiles’ neck.  “You’re here to care for the pack when I’m not here, and be as fun as you were back in Beacon Hills.”

Anxiety curled in Stiles’ gut, he stared back at Peter’s silhouette with wide eyes.

“Lay down, Stiles.” 

Stiles didn’t move.  He folded his hands on his lap, tightly squeezing his fingers to stop the shaking.  His breath hitched as the bed silently dipped towards Peter.  He closed his eyes.

“Relax, Stiles.”  He whispered, his warm breath ticking the back of Stiles’ neck.  “You’ve been such a good boy, I won’t hurt you.”

The anxiety disappeared from his blood, replaced by a warm feeling that started in the base of his neck and spread to his fingertips and toes, leaving his body plaint and loose.  He let Peter move him beneath the covers and moving his body where the wolf wanted it.

His breathing hitched with something other than anxiety as Peter ran his hands up the boy’s side, pulling the thin shirt up enough to touch his soft skin.

He made no move to stop Peter as his hand dipped below the waistband of Stiles’ pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we’re back with Stiles. Day 3 of story time, second day in the house. It’s a Monday.
> 
> If anything in this fic catches your interest, Event or Person or Thing, tell me either as a comment here or send me an ask on Tumblr (Anon is on) and we can see about writing it into the fic series.
> 
> Also: I’m getting a little writer antsy, but sometimes II want to write other things, so I’m taking Sterek and Steter prompts. I’ll tag it “Ashley VH prompts” so that you can find them easily on tumblr. I already have two from tumblr that I’ll write after I edit more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/13/13

He slept dreamlessly, sweating a little under the covers with the alpha behind him that night.  So he woke up sweaty, sticky from the night before, and blessedly alone. 

Stiles shifted, not wanting to open his eyes and see the plain white walls he was trapped in.  He was able to stay still with his eyes closed for a few short moments before he started to itch from the sweat and the dried come on his skin.

He sighed, pushing the blankets off his legs and opened his eyes.  Stiles didn’t allow himself too much time to wallow in the ache that the room gave him.  Instead, he quickly got to his feet and padded to the bathroom.

Turning on the shower and letting the water heat up to near scalding temperature, he stripped his clothes off, scowling as he peeled the underwear off from where it was stuck to his skin.  He tried not to think about the last two nights. 

Cleaning himself up after it was enough to make his stomach turn.

Stiles stepped beneath the spray of water, hissing in pain as the water burned his skin.  But he made no move to turn the heat down… maybe the hot water would burn the dirty feeling off of his skin. 

He stood under the spray, watching the way his skin turned red as the sweat and evidence of the night before washed down the drain.  Tears stung his eyes, but he ignored it… Crying wouldn’t really solve anything, so what’s the point?

Instead, Stiles closed his eyes.  He pictured himself back home, safe in his own shower getting ready for school… He almost laughed.  He _wanted_ to go to school.  He wanted to back home and go to school like this never happened…

He wanted to go back the way it was before their lives’ became a whirlwind of supernatural bullshit... when he and Scott went to school, were harassed by Harris, then went to make fun of the players on the field from the bench at lacrosse practice, and went to one of their houses to do their homework and play video games until they had to go to bed and restart the whole process again the next morning.

It wasn’t the glamorous life Scott has now as co-captain with the beautiful girlfriend, but it was comforting in its simplicity.  He knew his place, even if it was near the bottom rung of the ladder, and it wasn’t confusing and it wasn’t terrifying and he never felt so-

_Stop thinking like this,_ Stiles thought to himself.  It didn’t do any good to wallow like this.  He straightened his shoulders, relaxing his muscles around the still scalding water.  _Just find a way home…_

There must be some opportunity… There’s no way out of this room after Peter-

After Stiles falls asleep.

Peter apparently locks the door and is gone by the time Stiles wakes up.  So the only time he actually leaves the room is for dinner.  That is his only opportunity.  And he’s with Peter during that time, so he’s stuck.

Once again, Stiles got out of the shower with no plan and a headache born from frustration.

He frowned when he realized that he didn’t bring any extra clothes from the closet… There were plenty of towels sitting on shelf near the sink, but he really didn’t want to leave this room naked in case he wasn’t alone in the room.  But it’s not like he had another option…

Stiles wrapped a towel around his waist, holding it in place with his hand as he carefully unlocked and opened the door.  He peered out into the room.  The covers were still in a pile near the foot of the bed, and the curtains over the window were still open, just like it was before he left.  He opened the door a little bit more, leaning out a little to make sure he couldn’t see anyone in the room.

He let out an undignified noise when he saw her.  Addie was smiling at him from the chair by the bed that was hidden from his original position by the wall. 

She made no move towards him when he peered further into the bathroom, keeping the woman in his sight.  “I-I don’t have any clothes right now, Addie…” he said, clutching the towel a little tighter around his waist.

Addie smiled, “Would you feel more comfortable if I turn my back while you go to the closet?”  She asked like she’d talk to a child.  “Trust me, child.  Your bare chest holds no interest for me.” 

Stiles glared at her.  He stepped back from the door and squared his shoulders.  He opened the door fully and walked through the room trying to fake some kind of confidence without looking at Addie.  He slammed the closet door closed behind him after he turned on the light.

He dressed simply, jeans and a tee shirt with a dark blue plaid shirt.  When he was finished dressing himself, he walked out into the bedroom.

Addie was in the same position on the chair that she was in when Stiles left.  She held the remote for the television between her fingers, letting it swing back and forth so quickly it blurred like a helicopter blade.  “So,” She said, “What do you want to do today?  We could watch a movie or you could read one of your books or you could read the bestiary... Anything you want.”  She smiled at him.

Stiles frowned at her.  What he wanted still hasn’t changed but he already knew the answer to his request.  So he moved to the bookshelf where his gifts were carefully arranged.  He picked one at random.  The _Codex_ was heavy in his hand… he took it back to the only available seat in the room and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Addie smiled sadly at him while she picked up a glass and the bottle of wine that she must have brought with her to the bedroom.   She filled the glass for him and held it out without a word.

Stiles took it from her, thanking whatever this wine has that takes away the pressure behind his eyes.  He drank the glass quickly, returning it to its original place on the bedside table.  He sighed as his headache faded, replaced with the pleasant empty headed feeling large amounts of the wine gave him.

He settled back in the bed with his book, trying to read it.

After about half an hour, Stiles was antsy.  His foot tapped a mile a minute against the bed frame, tapping out small bangs like machine gun fire in the quiet room.

Addie frowned at him, “What’s wrong, Stiles?”  She asked, folding her hands on her lap.

Stiles sat the book aside, “I’m bored!”  He exclaimed, resting his elbows on his knees.  “There’s only so long I can stay in one room without going crazy.”

Addie frowned in sympathy.  “I told you once.  He’ll let you wander to your heart’s content.” She said,   “Once he trusts you.”

The boy huffed, running through his very short hair.  “What can I do?”  He asked, frustration coloring his tone. 

“You know the only way he’ll trust you, Stiles.”  She said seriously.  “Letting him touch you is a good start, but it isn’t going to cut it.”  Her words cut like razors laced with disgust in the quite of the room.

Stiles shook his head as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  “I can’t do that.”  He said, standing up and pacing the room.  “I’d rather die.”

Addie flicked a strand of black hair out of her eyes, “I’d have to disagree, Stiles.”  She leaned back stretching her legs under the long red dress she wore.  “Death is so finite, where as life…” she said with a laugh. “Life is full of possibilities,” She leaned forward, “and opportunities.”

Stiles frowned at her as she leaned forward and picked the empty glass of the table.  He approached her as she filled it, and took the cool glass when she handed it to him.  “What do you mean?”  He asked, sitting on the very edge of the bed. 

“Once he trusts you,” she said without a smile as she gestured to the glass in Stiles’ hand.  Once he drank it, she continued, “Peter will allow you to wander all over the grounds.  You can see the layout of the walls, find the weak points.”  She took the now empty glass from Stiles’ hand, “If you run, he will follow.  Wherever you go, no matter how far, he will find you.”  She filled the glass with a small smile, “Unless he’s dead.”

“Then why don’t you kill him?  You’re a werewolf aren’t you?”

She smiled, “I am a werewolf, little one, but there are limits to my strength.” She said, “If I fought him, I would die.”

Stiles scoffed, “And you expect me, the weak human, to kill him for you?” 

Addie gave a small laugh, “Possibilities and opportunities, Stiles.  Anything is possible.  You are far from a weak human.”

She held the glass out to him, her black fingernails gleaming in the light.

Stiles took it without a word.  He just held it, not drinking any of it yet.

“Wait for an opportunity.”  She said, staring at the wine, “He’s not going to do anything to you this early.  He won’t believe it’s real so soon after you expressed such hatred for him.”  She sighed, “It’s going to be difficult, but you must start acting like you don’t despise him.  He genuinely wants you happy.”

Stiles frowned at the dark wine in the glass.

Addie leaned back, resting her elbows on the arms of the chair.  “You won’t have to do much once the opportunity arises.”  She said in a flat voice, “maybe a kiss,” her voice was quiet, “Peter will do the rest.” 

Anxiety coiled in Stiles’ stomach.  He raised the wine to his lips, and tipped the glass back, quickly draining the contents. 

“How well can you control your heartbeat, Stiles?”  Addie asked, taking the glass from Stiles and sat it on the bedside table. 

Stiles shrugged, “pretty good, I guess?”

Addie smiled, “Go to sleep, Stiles.”  She said, “I’ll teach you how to lie throughout the next few weeks.”

He rolled his shoulders, pulling the book aside.  “I know how to lie.”  He said, suddenly tired.

“I mean I’ll teach you how to lie to _us_.”  She said, pulling the book away from Stiles to put back on the shelf.  “You’ll need it soon enough.”

Stiles curled on his side, not bothering to change out of his clothes.  “I’m not usually this tired all the time…” he said, his eyes drooping.

Addie smiled and gently ran her fingertips over Stiles’ short hair, “Just go to sleep, child.  Everything will be ok in your dreams.”  She retreated back to her chair.  “Let me tell you a story…”  She trailed off, threading her fingers together over her stomach.  “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful queen.”  She said in a soft, quiet voice that made Stiles close his eyes. 

“She dressed all in silk and satin and light.  In pretty colors with flowers in her hair.” Stiles could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke about the beautiful queen, her light accent coming out more as she spoke, adding a strange lilt to the words.  “She ruled her people with kindness that surpassed anything that was expected from her family.  There was something about her that made every single person she spoke to feel like the most important thing in the entire universe, if only for a moment.”

Stiles fought the heaviness of his eyelids, wanting to hear the rest of the story, but it was harder and harder to keep himself awake with every passing heqrtbeat.

“But no amount of beauty and kindness could save her from the vicious enemies that lurked around the edges of her light, ready to snuff her out.”  Addie sounded sad at that, “The queen had to run.  To save her, the kingdom needed to send her away to a distant land disguised as a common woman.”  Her voice changed to something darker, almost angry… 

Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.  He drifted off, floating away from the bed on a cloud.  Addie’s voice drifted through the clouds.  “They took her silk and satin and flowers, but they couldn’t take her light.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work... I'm sorry for that, but I am posting this for two reasons: 1. I wanted to post on Friday the 13th. 2. I needed to get 40ish more hits nowish so I can sleep with the knowledge that I got 10,000 hits :) Thank you to all my readers, I love you.
> 
> So, this will either be the update that was meant to be on Wednesday, or I’ll post again on Wednesday if I finish chapter 11 by then. But I'm thinking of adding a part that wasn't in before between chapters 8 and 9, so if I do that, the update might take a bit longer.
> 
> Any thoughts about anything? because I would physically love to hear them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/18/13

Being a cop really sucks sometimes.

Mostly because you know the things that the parents of the missing child can’t be told…

Because you know that after 72 hours in a missing persons’ case, especially with a child, the police accept that they are looking for a corpse.

Stiles has been missing for three days now…

John had been at home since his boy went missing.  He’s hardly slept.  He only eats when Melissa gave him the food she made for him and Scott.  The boy’s been at the Stilinski home since the morning Stiles disappeared, waiting for news that never came. 

It was late afternoon now.  The sun was sinking into the horizon, lengthening the shadows in the kitchen.  The phones sat on the table in front of him, silent and still. 

If Stiles was here, he’d be here in the kitchen making dinner… and John probably wouldn’t even be there. 

It would have been something, paperwork or another animal attack, something to keep him from home-

A parent should be there to see his kid go to his first high school dance.  It’s as much of a milestone for the parent as it is for the kid-

He’s been working too much. 

It’s not fair to Stiles. 

The sheriff closed his eyes and said a silent prayer.  All he wanted was his son back, safe and sound.  He’d quit his job if that’s what it took.  Stiles is the only family he’s got left-

John ran his hand through his hair, his eyes flicked to the cabinet.  The urge to drink was getting stronger with every tick of the clock on the wall.

He picked up his cell phone, dialing the number for the station like he had several times over the last three days.

“Hey, sheriff.”  Jenny said after a few rings. 

She had been the one that the sheriff called since day one because she was one of the only officers from the department who were able to work Stiles’ case.  She was one of the few that hardly interacted with Stiles… She was fairly new, only worked nights and Stiles didn’t usually go to visit that late at night. 

“Any news?”  John asked quietly.  He didn’t want to wake Scott, who was curled on the couch, asleep under the thick blanket.

She sighed through the phone, “Not about Stiles, Sheriff.  I’m sorry.”  She said in a rush, lowering her voice to an almost whisper.  The sound of a door closing came through the phone, “But there was something.”  She whispered quickly, “The body in the basement of the Hale House?  It was Kate Argent.  But there were fingerprints too.  They’re still checking the databases.” She took a big breath after she spoke.  She had a habit of speaking too fast and forgetting to breathe.

He heard the door open through the phone, followed by Jenny’s quick whisper, “Gotta go.” Then she hung up.

John took a deep breath, processing the information she gave. 

Kate Argent. 

All the evidence suggests that she was behind the Hale Fire.  5 years was a long time, but it time doesn’t heal the wound that fire caused… Derek Hale should be their suspect.

Scott went to the Hale House for a reason… Derek must be involved somehow.

The Sheriff scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration.  He knew he shouldn’t get involved, but time ran out, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

John stood.  He put his cell phone in his pocket, and moved to the notepad sitting on the counter.

He scrawled a note to Scott, telling him that he stepped out and he’d be back later.  Hopefully the sheriff would be back before the boy even woke up, but it’s best to cover all the bases. 

The sticky note was left on the fridge door and he quickly walked to the front door to put his coat on against the cold November air.  The sheriff locked the door after him and left to find Derek Hale.

* * *

 

He didn’t really _know_ where the Hale would be… the kid never told them an address when he was questioned… But the sheriff’s suspicion was correct.  He found Derek sitting on the hood of his black car just outside the circle of the crime scene tape with a tall, fat bottle sitting beside him, staring up at the sky over the shell of his former home.

“Little young for that.”  The sheriff said, stopping a few feet from the boy in front of him. 

Derek scoffed quietly, lowering his gaze to the ground.  “Ya gonna arrest me, Sheriff?” he asked, fixing the Sheriff with a cold stare and a smirk.

“No.”  John said quickly, “I’m here to talk.”

Derek picked up the bottle, raised it to his lips and took a long drink.  He sat the bottle back down on the hood and waved a hand at the sheriff.   There was a moment of silence before Derek said, “About anything in particular?  Because I’m bad at small talk.”

The Sheriff frowned, “Kate Argent is dead.”

“I know.”  Derek said in a cold voice.  He reached beside him to the half empty bottle, tipping it back to take another drink.  The movements caused the sleeve of his leather jacket to rise up enough to show the deep red scratches on his wrist, with thin dark red lines of dried blood trailing down his hand.

“How’d you get those?”  The sheriff asked as Derek drank. 

The boy lowered the bottle, holding it away to see his wrist.  He huffed a laugh, “It almost looks like claw marks.”  He muttered, staring at the scratches on his wrist with a strange look like he didn’t even notice he had them.  He smirked, turning his attention back to the sheriff, “maybe it was a werewolf?” He scoffed, raising the bottle back to take another drink.

The sheriff nodded slowly.  The kid obviously wouldn’t tell him the truth… “How are you doing, Derek?  A lot has happened in the last few weeks.”

“I’m…” Derek held the bottle tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white in the late afternoon sunlight, “ _great_.”   He bit off the word, making it almost a growl.  “I mean,” he smirked up at the sheriff, “Why wouldn’t I be?”  He took another drink.  “One of my last living relatives was _cut in half_ ” he said, gesturing around with the bottle in hand.  “And if you think I care about that-” he pointed to the remnants of the house behind the sheriff, “ _thing_ burning down again, I don’t.”  He took another drink.  “And everything smells and it’s so _loud_.”  He slammed his hand on the hood beside him, nearly denting the metal.  He took a long drink from the nearly empty bottle and sat it down beside him again.

The sheriff said nothing.  That was more then he said during the entire time he was questioned about his sister… Alcohol always was the best way to get people talking.  He was silent as Derek stared out at the setting sun behind the burnt house.  “What about Kate Argent?”  John asked.

Derek shrugged, “What do you want me to say?”  He said in his flat voice.  “That I’m sorry she’s dead?”  He scoffed.  “I’m not.”  He picked up the bottle and drained the contents.  He stared at the ground for a moment, “It’s not like she didn’t deserve it.”

John sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.  There was a beat of silence again, “Do you know where Stiles is?”  He asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

The boy stared at him with tired eyes, “No.”  He said with a frown and an almost sad voice, “But I think I know who took him.”  The flat, unemotional voice was back as he spoke, but his words sparked hope in the Sheriff’s chest.

“Who?”  John asked, his heart beating faster.

“Peter Hale.”  Derek shook the empty bottle with a huff.

Just like that, the hope that built in his chest died.  “That’s not possible.”  He said with a sigh.  “He’s been unresponsive in the hospital for years.”

Derek shrugged, “I’m just telling you what I know.”  He sat the empty bottle on the hood beside him and leaned forward, “Have you actually _seen_ him in the hospital recently?”

John said nothing as Derek slid off the hood of the car and rolled his shoulders.  The boy turned and started to walk deeper into the forest.  “Where are you going?”  The sheriff asked, starting to follow him.

The boy turned to look at the Sheriff over his shoulder.  He pointed in the direction he was going, “That way.” He said with a scoff and continued deeper into the forest.

“I can’t let you go out there without knowing where you’re going.”  The sheriff said.  The boy was drunk and he couldn’t ethically let the kid go into the forest with the recent animal attacks.

Derek stopped and stared at the Sheriff for a moment and he scoffed.  He turned and pointed to a well concealed wall hidden in the trees.  “I’m going there.”  He said, “My father built it.”

The sheriff nodded and watched as Derek walked to the small building.  “Derek,” The sheriff called after him.  When the boy stopped without turning around, the sheriff continued, “Get some people in your life.”  He said, “You need friends now more than ever.”

Derek was still for a moment.  He said nothing as he slowly walked to the shack. 

John tilted his head to the side, noticing that the boy wasn’t very off balance for someone who drank an entire bottle of liquor… He ignored that thought in favor of taking out his phone.

He dialed Melissa’s number and held the phone to his ear.  She was working, but he could hope that she wasn’t too busy to answer his call.

“Hello?” she said, sounding tired.

He was already moving quickly to his car when she answered, “I need a favor.”  He said quickly, getting in the car and beginning to drive to the hospital.

“What is it?” Melissa asked, the tiredness in her voice turning to concern.

“I need to see if someone is in the hospital.”

She made a small noise in the back of her throat.  “I don’t know if I can do that, sheriff…”

He balanced the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he drove to the hospital, “I just want to know if he’s there.”  He said quietly.

Melissa was silent for a moment, “ok.”  She said, “What’s the name?”  The sound of clacking keys came through the phone as she began searching through the computer records. 

“Peter Hale.”

The typing stopped for a moment, she must have known about the Hale who couldn’t leave the hospital.  “It says he’s here.”  She said quietly.

“Don’t go check without me.” If Peter Hale was there, he might be dangerous… “I’m almost there.”

Melissa sighed and said, “Alright.  I’ll be here.”  They hung up the phone.

It only took a few moments for the sheriff to pull into the non-emergency parking lot.  He pulled into a parking space and rushed into the hospital where Melissa stood near the door, waiting for him.

The woman had her curly hair tied back in a tight ponytail, but small curls fell down and framed her tired, concerned eyes.  She must not have been sleeping well either…

“Follow me.”  She said, walking into the hospital to the elevator.

They walked in tense silence to the elevator and up to the third floor of the hospital where the patients who would most likely not leave in anything but a body bag where treated. 

That floor was one of the only places in the entire hospital where it was completely silent.  There were no tears, no words, no music, nothing.

Melissa led him to a room at the end of the hall.  “This is it.”  She said, she slowed as she neared the door, but john continued until the bed came into view.

The curtains were pulled back, letting the setting sun illuminate the empty wheelchair and neatly made empty bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was added in last minute… I thought Chapter 8 seemed a bit short (time wise)… The Derek part was going to be an extra fic in the series, but I decided to add it now because so many people liked my Sheriff part. I'm surprised I managed to finish this chapter on time...
> 
> This chapter kinda sucks, but I like it cause drunk Derek is sassy Derek and I think you could all use a laugh… Cherish it, a chance like this probably won’t come again.
> 
> And don’t forget guys, if any of the tags of this fic may be triggering for you, I’ll put them at the top of the end notes, so check there if any of the tags may trigger you. This will become increasingly important as the fic goes on.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/21/13

Stiles woke up sticky again the next morning. 

When he was freshly showered and his skin was burned red from the seemingly endless supply of hot water in the house, he dressed in clean clothes that he actually remembered to bring into the bathroom.

When he went back into the bedroom, he started when he saw Peter sitting on the bed smirking at him.  “Good morning, Stiles.”  Peter said, he stood up and walked over to where Stiles stood by the bathroom door.

Addie told him what to do.  He needed to start acting like Peter didn’t disgust him… so he didn’t pull away when Peter reached out to him to take the boy’s wrist in his hand.

“Adrasteia has told me that you’re getting bored, and you’ve been so well behaved.”  Peter said, gently starting to pull Stiles towards the door.  “Would you like to come downstairs with me today?”

Stiles said nothing; he nodded as he followed Peter’s lead out of the room and down the stairs.

Peter led them to the office, never once letting go of the boy’s wrist until they got to the office.  He released Stiles’ wrist next to the comfortable chair against the wall near the window.

Once Stiles sat down, and folded his hands together on his lap, Peter moved around the desk and sat down.  Stiles looked out of the window, amazed at the size of this place…

From the window, he could make out the dark roof of a good sized building peeking out from the tree tops just inside of the wall.  Beyond that, there was nothing but trees and steep hills as far as he could see.

Stiles frowned at the fluffy clouds in the sky.  Anything new he learned about this place did nothing but provide more proof that getting back home was damn near impossible. 

He turned away from the clouds, instead looking at the books lining the walls.  All of the books looked a hundred years old bound in plain dark bindings, with no titles on the spines.

Peter quietly scoffed from behind the paper he was holding in his hands.

Curiosity filled Stiles’ blood, “What is that?”  He asked before he thought better of it.

Peter looked up, “it’s a response from a pack in Washington.”  He said.  He smirked down at the paper, making Stiles skin crawl in fear.  “Not a very _wise_ response from a pack in Washington.”    

“What are they responding to?”  Stiles asked.

Peter sat the letter on the desk, and folded his hands on it.  “I told them they should follow me and become part of my pack.”  He stared at Stiles as he spoke, measuring the boy’s reaction.

His heart beat faster under the wolf’s gaze.  “Why?”  He said, trying to sound less uncomfortable than he really was. 

Peter smirked and picked up the fancy pen that was sitting beside the paper, “I may tell you that if you behave.”  Peter said, quickly writing on the blank page beneath the letter he got.

Nausea curled in Stiles’ stomach, but he said nothing.  He leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, pretending he was back home.

Just as the boy’s leg started to tap with boredom, there was a light tap on the door, and Addie peeked inside.  Peter waved her in before returning to the paper he was reading.  Addie threw herself in the chair in front of the desk, setting a laptop on her legs over her dark blue dress.

Addie beamed at him, “I brought the Bestiary for you, Stiles.”  Addie said, holding the laptop out for Stiles to take.

Stiles gave her a small smile, and took the laptop.   He opened the lid, clicked the .pdf file, and started to read.

The introduction of the bestiary was short, maybe a page long, but it was fascinating.  It was written in plain language with delicate cursive, it gave a very short description of what the next few hundred pages will describe.  It told him a bit about the person who wrote it… almost like a diary page.

Her name was Thalia, she was younger than him, only 14 and she was already married.  She wrote that she and her mate had decided to bring all the knowledge they could gather about anything that went bump in the night.

The writer signed her name in elegant cursive, followed by the year.  _March 18_ , _1628_.

Stiles read on, reading what Thalia had to say about werewolves.  There seemed to be everything that Stiles could ever want to know about werewolves in these pages, either in the carefully written text of the scrawled notes on the side of the pages.

He had only gotten to read a few pages before the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a bang that made Stiles jump.

“I found one, Peter.”  A vaguely familiar woman with long pale blond hair tied into a ponytail high on her head stormed into the room, stopping just behind the chairs that Addie sat in.  Addie leaned back, stretching her neck back to look up at the woman who was leaning on her chair.

Peter glared at her, his eyes turning blood red.  The woman straightened up, her eyes flashing bright blue.  The alpha waved a hand in Stiles’ direction, making the woman turn her electric blue eyes to Stiles. 

The woman’s face twisted into a scowl as she glared at Stiles.  If looks could kill, he’d be melted into a pile of sludge from the heat of her stare.  She turned to Peter, “Fine.”  She said, “I’ll stay at her school, but get _this_ done soon.”  She pointed to Stiles, “We don’t have time for such petty things.”  She spat the words out like they burned her mouth.   She turned on her heel, her hair spinning out widely and nearly hitting Addie who still sat beneath her.  The woman stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

“Stiles.”  Peter said, his voice full of annoyance.  Stiles looked over to him, the alpha’s eyes had faded back to their normal cool blue.  “That was Pamela.  She finds new betas for my pack.”

Stiles looked back to the door where she disappeared.  “Did she tell you to bite Scott?” Stiles asked, turning back to Peter.

Peter scoffed lightly, “No one tells me to do anything.”  He said, “She thought he would make a good candidate.”  He said, picking up the letter he had been writing.  “She was obviously wrong.”  He held the letter out to Addie, who took it without a word.

“You never did tell me what happened with Scott.”  Addie said, folding the letter into an envelope she pulled out of her sleeve.

“The boy was headstrong.”  Peter said, “Too moral.  He would have taken a long time to break; I chose to leave him with my nephew.”  Peter turned to Stiles with a smirk.  “I had a better prize.”

Stiles looked down at the screen of the laptop on his lap.  There was a beat of silence before Addie started to hum the little tune that she seemed to like so much.  After a moment, Peter picked the pen back up and began to write another letter, and Stiles went back to reading the bestiary.

Time slipped away into nothing as he read about werewolves and witches and vampires.  With every new chapter he read, he was more and more shocked that the things his mother told him about as bedtime stories were actually real…

After what felt like hours, he was only 20 pages and 3 chapters in.  Peter stood, handing a small stack of paper to Addie who took it without a word.  She tucked it into her sleeve and smiled at Stiles. 

Peter moved around the desk to where Stiles sat.  He pulled the laptop off Stiles’ lap and snapped it shut, holding it out to Addie. 

She took it and held the bestiary to her chest like a shield, the smile slipping off her face. 

Stiles looked up a Peter when he stopped in front of the boy’s chair.  Peter silently held his hand out, waiting for Stiles to get up.  He hesitated for only a moment before reaching up and using the wolf’s hand to pull himself up to stand next to Peter. 

Addie smiled at him when Peter let go of his hand, letting it fall back to his side.

Peter said nothing as he turned and walked out of the office, knowing that they would follow.  Addie stepped forward, resting her hand on Stiles’ shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before lightly shoving the boy in front of her to the office door. 

Stiles gave her a small smile over his shoulder as he followed after Peter as they walked, presumably, to lunch.

The betas that Peter introduced to him the day before were already there, standing at their places in the main table.  They all looked away, baring their necks to the alpha as they entered, all except  Pamela who was standing near the end beside Adelaide glaring daggers at him, like she was envisioning all the ways to murder Stiles as painfully as possible.

“Pamela.”  Peter warned, his voice dark.  “Enough.”  Stiles didn’t need to see Peter’s face to figure out that his eyes flashed red at the beta.

Her eyes turned blue and she broke eye contact with Stiles, turning her face to the side, baring her neck to Peter. 

Stiles glanced at Addie, she just shrugged.  He flinched as Peter’s hand circled around Stiles’ elbow, pulling him closer to the wolf’s body as they slowly walked to the table.  He pulled Stiles down to the chair, nearly making Stiles fall.

The door at the far end of the room opened, letting the betas pour in carrying large trays full of food and bring them to the tables.  The beta who sat the tray in front of Peter bowed so low she was practically crawling to the table.  She sat the tray on the table and scurried off so quickly she was practically blurred. 

There was a light tap on his arm when Peter was dishing food onto the silver plates.  He turned to Addie who sat with her shoulders pressed to the back of her high backed chair with her arms crossed over her folded legs and her long dress fanned out around her.

She smiled brightly and tapped the side her chin, pointing to her lips, telling him to smile.

Addie lowered her hand when Peter sat a plate in front of him. 

Stiles looked at the plate and took a deep breath, he mustered up the best smile he could, hoping it didn’t look too pained, and turned to Peter.  He nodded in thanks and quickly turned back to the plate before he could see Peter’s reaction.

Out of the corner of his eye, Addie smiled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since Christmas is on Wednesday, I updated this on Yule as a “Christmas” gift. I hope you liked it :)
> 
> I may end up taking a hiatus after Christmas to work on the plot, but it should only be a week or two. But once Classes start again on the 6th, I’ll TRY to update every week, but will most likely have them every other week on Wednesday. 
> 
> And I just realized that I have classes starting on the same day Teen Wolf comes back………..................... I don’t think I like that turn of events… But I’ll be posting daily updates to my Tumblr during my hiatus and during classes.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/25/13

When Stiles woke up that morning, he felt… different.  Not good… but not completely terrified.   He was breathing easier than he had since the night the dance had been cut short. 

Something about the morning was different…

Stiles got out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower to wash the night before off his skin.  Just like the morning before, and the morning before that.  He really hoped that he would get back home before this became a routine…

He showered quickly, practically scrubbing his skin raw under the spray.  When he was finished, he changed into the clothes he brought into the bathroom (he learned well) and unlocked the door, not pausing to let himself think about too much.

Peter was sitting on the bed when he left the bathroom, and Stiles barely hesitated. 

This morning was no different from the others, but…

Something _felt_ different.  Stiles could feel it in his blood.  The air was thicker, it made Stiles’ skin tingle with electricity.

The wolf said nothing as he took Stiles’ wrist, pulling him all the way to the office on the ground floor.  Addie followed after them with the bestiary in her hands and they sat in the same spots they did the day before.

Stiles had barely read a page about how vampires are made when he heard a crash from the hall.  Peter and Addie both looked up at the door of the office when loud growls broke through the crashes.

Peter and Addie stood and quickly walked out the door.  Addie leaned into the room, pointing to Stiles in a silent order to stay put.  Then they were gone, leaving the door cracked open behind them.

He hesitated for a moment, shock freezing him in place. 

A loud crash broke through the brief silence from the door, jolting Stiles into action.  He stood, pushing the laptop off his lap to the seat of the chair, and ran to the door.  When he peered into the hall, it was completely empty. 

Stiles opened the door and jumped at the second crash that came from his right, followed by loud, animalistic growls and howls of pain. 

He turned left, away from the sounds of struggle, not sure where he was going.  He’d never been down this hall.  The only way he’d been taken was to the right, into the dining room, then up the stairs.  The rest of the house was a mystery.

But it’s not like he had another option.   

This is the opportunity he’d been waiting for since he woke up that first day.  He had to move quickly, hoping that whatever made the alpha leave him alone in the office kept him occupied for a while longer.

The sounds of struggle faded when Stiles’ quick, sneaky walk became a full on run, his bare feet smacking onto the wood floor.  He ran through the wide halls, wincing with every footfall, hoping to find a door before Peter found he was missing.

He ran around the corner, nearly knocking a small table over in his haste.  When he skidded to a halt in a massive entryway, the small ornate carpet underfoot slid across the shiny wooden floor.  Stiles flailed his arms around, trying to keep his balance.

When he was steady on his feet, he looked around. 

The entryway was huge.  It had ornate, curling staircases up to the second floor beside the doorways to two identical halls.  The room was warmly decorated, tan walls and dark small tables and dark, shiny wood chairs with red cushions.  

Between two huge windows covered by dark red curtains, there was a set of dark wood double doors with fogged glass and blackened metal curling into some design that Stiles didn’t care to notice.

He ran to the door, the small carpet flinging away under his feet.   He fumbled with the lock, his hands shaking and sweaty against the cold metal.  When it finally unlocked, Stiles pulled open the door and threw himself outside, into the cold air.

The door opened to a path, lined on both sides with colorful flowers that grew to about knee height.  Stiles ran along it as it curved to a long driveway, the cold concrete freezing his bare feet. 

This side of the house was very close to the wall around the property… barely the length of a football felid away.  He slowed, staring at the gate with two tall towers on either side; each one had a person standing on the top, facing away from the house.

_Of course it has guard towers,_ Stiles thought to himself as he started to run again, trying to think of a way through the gate that stretched across the gap in the wall without the guards noticing. 

Stiles barely made it to the driveway when strong arms caught him around the middle, knocking the air out of lungs.  He struggled, pushing against Peter’s arm and wiggling in his grip. 

“You shouldn’t have run, Stiles.”  Peter said, ignoring he shouts of protests from the boy.  He picked Stiles up off his feet to carry him over his shoulder back into the house.

Peter’s shoulder was sharp under Stiles’ stomach, making it even more difficult to catch his breath. _Apologize, Stiles._  A little voice in his head said, _you need his trust._

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to make his heartbeat slow down.  “I’m sorry” he said, his voice breathy and quiet and scared.  Peter slowed, keeping Stiles up off the ground.  “I just- I just missed my family,” he said, remembering what Addie said about lying. 

You need to make it believable.  Inject a kernel of truth into your lies…

Peter stopped, gently setting Stiles back on his feet, only keeping his hand on Stiles shoulder with almost bruising force.  “You’re with your pack now, Stiles.”  Peter said, starting to drag Stiles back to the house.  “You have to be punished for running.”

Fear turned Stiles’ blood to ice.  He tried to pull away from Peter, hissing in pain when Peter’s claws bit into his shoulder.   “If you try to run again,” Peter said, “I’ll have to carry you, and the punishment will be worse.”

Stiles stilled with blood staining the shoulder of his shirt.  He walked beside Peter in silence as the wolf led him back into the house.

Peter led them to a door.  He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door; he pushed Stiles in front of him, still holding him tight to keep him from falling down the stairs into the darkness of the basement.

Stiles couldn’t hesitate as Peter pushed him along quickly, down the steps and into the pitch black basement, closing the door behind them.  He couldn’t see anything… he closed his eyes, but it made no difference, the darkness behind his eyelids was as dark as the room around him. 

The boy stood still, hoping his eyes would adjust in the darkness as he heard Peter pick something up near him.  He flinched when Peter’s hand circled around his wrist, jerking him forward, knocking him off balance. 

Rough rope circled around the wrist Peter held as Stiles fell against him.  The wolf synched it too tight around the boy’s skinny wrist before Stiles could pull it back.  Stiles’ heartbeat sped up in panic as Peter pulled the rope around his other wrist, not seeming bothered at all by the darkness around them.  “Don’t.” Stiles didn’t think about what he said, his voice quiet and frightened. 

Peter tightened the rope around Stiles’ wrists until Stiles gasped in pain and tears fell from his eyes.   The wolf moved away from Stiles, leaving him with his wrists tied too tightly together and no way to know where Peter went.

The boy struggled against the ropes, trying to pull away from the burns that were forming on his wrists.  Tears burned in his eyes from the pain of it, he felt the blood soaking into the rope.

There was a low growl beside him.  Stiles flinched towards the sound and his blood turned to ice as vivid red eyes peered back at him.  He stepped back, bringing his tied hands up to cover his torso.  Claws pierced the skin of his forearms, making blood pour from the punctured skin onto the cold floor and Stiles cried out in pain.

No matter how much Stiles struggled, Peter worked the rope around his forearms, stretching his shoulders painfully, and scratching the boy’s skin with his claws.  Panic curled around Stiles’ heart, making it harder to breathe with every curl of the rope and scratch on his skin.

Peter said nothing as he moved around Stiles, pulling his claws away from the boy’s skin. 

Stiles released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as the sharp claws left his arm, leaving cold stinging wounds peppered along his arms.   

The wolf stepped behind Stiles, pressing against the boy’s back.

Stiles gasped at the contact.  Hot tears leaked down Stiles’ face, leaving an itchy trail down his neck.  Peter pressed his face against Stiles’ neck, breathing in the smell of fear, his harsh breath cooling goosebumps along the tear tracks on his neck.

Peter wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist as the boy tried to run into the darkness, dragging him back against his chest.  The wolf growled lowly in Stiles’ ear, wrapping his arms tighter around the boy’s waist and pressing his claws into the soft skin of Stiles’ throat.

“Stop running.” Peter hissed in his ear, inhaling the scent of Stiles’ fear, “There is a limit to my restraint, Stiles.”  Stiles froze, not even daring to breathe against the claws.

After a moment, Peter slowly removed his claws from Stiles’ throat.  He reached around Stiles’ chest, pulling his wrists against his collar bone.  Before Stiles could even breathe properly, Peter had the rope wrapped around is back tightly, keeping his arms in place.

He wrapped the rope around Stiles’ torso, twisting and pulling it before Stiles could do anything.  Peter tied a knot in the middle of Stiles’ lower back, and stepped back into the darkness.

Stiles looked around, his eyes still not adjusting to the darkness.  He couldn’t hear any noise from the wolf.  His arms pressed on his chest, making it harder to breathe with every passing moment.  He turned, trying to see something-

He cried out in equal parts shock and pain as Peter pushed him down.  Stiles landed on the hard ground, wincing as the floor probably bruised his tailbone.  He couldn’t bring his hands back to catch his fall, so his back slammed against the floor, knocking the air from his lungs. 

Peter caught him before his head could slam into the ground.  The wolf gently lowered the boy’s head to the floor and moved away again.

Before Stiles could do anything, Peter wrapped a rope dangerously high on Stiles’ thigh.

Stiles gasped and tried to kick away.  The rope dug tightly into the skin of his thigh, but he didn’t stop.  He shifted away, but Peter gently placed a hand on Stiles’ knee, keeping it just strong enough to hold him in place while he wrapped the rope around his legs, pulling it tight until Stiles gasped in pain. 

Peter had the rope complexly twisted around his thighs; he twisted a knot about the size of an apple between Stiles’ knees, and then coiled the rope tightly around the boy’s calves.  Peter wrapped a hand around both of Stiles’ ankles, holding them tightly in place as he wrapped the rope around Stiles’ ankles, completely tying Stiles’ legs together.

When he was done, Peter removed his clawed hands from the boy’s legs.

Stiles flinched when he felt a cold hand on his face; Peter’s clawed fingertips scratching along Stiles’ forehead, leaving a sticky splotch of Stiles’ blood on his cheek by his eye.  “Be good, Stiles.”  He said, the hand disappeared and Stiles heard Peter stand.  “I’ll be back when your punishment is over.” 

Peter’s light footsteps went up the steps, leaving Stiles behind in the darkness.   The door at the top of the stairs opened and light flooded through, silhouetting Peter.

Stiles flinched as the light stabbed his eyes.   He turned his head as Peter slammed the door behind him, flooding the room with complete darkness again. 

Apparently there just wasn’t any light to let his eyes adjust to…

So he was alone, tied in a basement in a room where the air was already making him shiver.  He strained his eyes, looking for anything in the darkness.  It was so thick it felt like it was pressing in on him from all sides, crushing him to the floor-

Stiles took a deep breath.  If he didn’t breathe as deeply as he could, he’d have a panic attack. 

A panic attack is bad enough when he can wrap his arms around his ribs in an attempt to hold himself together.  Hide his face in his hands and hide from the fear… he could barely scratch the dried blood off his face if he stretched. 

The ropes around him seemed to constrict with his every breath, but he breathed deep to calm himself down, trying to convince himself that the constricting against his skin was his own panicking mind.  He closed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek hard.  He tasted blood in his mouth, but he didn’t stop until the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears slowed.

He listened for any noise. 

Anything could be in here with him and he couldn’t see even it… He was fairly certain Peter wouldn’t tie him up like this just to feed him to some slightly less horrific monster.  Not before-

Stiles shook his head.  He can’t think like that.  There’s only so much his mind can take. 

He took a deep breath, the ropes pulling against his ribs painfully as the bones expanded with breath.  Stiles gave the ropes an experimental tug, hissing in pain as they cut into his wrists.  He felt blood cool against the cold air, the ropes burning his now bloodied, rope burnt skin. 

Stiles pulled harder, trying in vain to pull himself free.  He sat in the dark struggling against the ropes, allowing them to cut deeper and deeper for what felt like hours.  He even tried to bite at them, but he couldn’t find a single knot in the darkness.   

His back ached, his shoulders were sore and he couldn’t even feel his feet anymore… he fell back against the concrete.  Tears falling from his eyes before he could muster enough strength to stop them, he felt near hysterical sobs building in his chest-

But he couldn’t start to cry like he wanted to.  If he did, he wouldn’t stop.

Or he would just… give up.

Both of those options were not acceptable.

He should have known better. 

Running outside, away from a werewolf who not only has the heightened senses, but also knowledge of the area… how _stupid_.  Stiles didn’t even know there were guard towers!

Stiles wiggled around, turning on his side to try to get a little more comfortable.  He let a few more tears fall before taking a deep breath and blinking the tears away, ignoring the tightness around his heart until it faded and he could breathe normally again.

There was no way to escape this place.  Not while Peter was here, and not while the werewolves guarded the only break in the wall he could find.  Trying to think of a way out of this mess only made his head ache with the apparent futility of escaping at all.

A light tune floated from somewhere.  Stiles tried to wiggle around more, to see where the noise was coming from, but he saw nothing.  The music seemed to come from the air itself. 

Stiles stared into the darkness and slowly allowed himself to fall back to the floor, closing his eyes and focusing on the music…

He groaned in pain as light exploded all around him.  The ropes pulled at his skin and yanked at the new scabs forming around the rough rope as he turned on his side with his eyes closed against the light.  His muscles screamed in protest at the movements he made.  It didn’t seem like he’s been in the darkness for that long…

Stiles couldn’t help the pathetic whimper that escaped his lips at the pain.  The light from the door that Peter opened burned his eyes as the wolf calmly walked down the stairs towards Stiles.  He slowly opened his eyes, trying to adjust to the light.

Peter knelt at the floor beside him, the golden light from the door that was left open provided just enough light for Stiles to see the small bare room he was in and the outline of Peter’s form.  The wolf ran his hand down Sties’ body, tracing down his hips to grab the ropes around his ankles.  “Are you sorry, Stiles?”  Peter asked, claws scratching along the skin under his jeans.

Stiles nodded, squinting against the light.  Peter slowly untied the ropes around the boys’ legs.  He was torturously slow, but Stiles didn’t care.  At least the rope was leaving.

The boy’s legs fell apart when Peter pulled the last bit of rope at the tops of his thighs away; making tingling pricks of ice run up his legs.  Peter gently pulled Stiles up to a sitting position, ignoring the grunt of pain that escaped Stiles’ lips at the sudden movement.

Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, making the boy lean against Peter’s chest.  Stiles fought the urge to lean into Peter’s warmth… his hands were freezing cold and shaking as Peter reached around to his lower back to untie the knot there that probably left a bruise on his back without Stiles even noticing it. 

The rope uncoiled from his ribs, the tingling rising along the imprints of the rope under his thin shirt.  Peter pulled his arms up so the boy’s hands rested against his forehead and slowly pulled the ropes away from Stiles’ skin, cradling the boy against his chest.

Peter finally pulled the last bit of rope off Stiles’ wrist and let it fall to the floor by Stiles’ hip. 

Stiles tried to push himself up to stand, but he couldn’t even get himself an inch off the ground before falling back into Peter’s arms, going limp in exhaustion and pain.

Peter carefully wrapped an arm under Stiles’ knees and shoulders and lifted him off the ground like he weighed nothing.   He was too tired and in too much pain to even bother protesting. 

He was silent as he let his head fall against Peter’s shoulder; he was nearly asleep by the time they reached the room.  Peter gently placed him on the bed, keeping him in a seated position just long enough to pull the shirt over his head and toss it in the corner.

Stiles looked at his chest dully in the light of the moonlight from the window, his eyes tracing the red lines on his ribs where the rope once rested.  His wrists and forearms were crossed with dried dark blood, thick red lines from the rope, and deep holes where Peter pierced his claws into the flesh. 

He didn’t fight it when Peter lightly pushed him back, making him lie back against the pillows.  Before he thought about what was happening, Peter laid him on his back on the bed and pulled the jeans off Stiles’ sore legs carefully, not jostling him too much to make the muscles burn.

The jeans joined the shirt on the floor and Stiles laid back in the bed in nothing but his underwear.  He shifted, trying to sit up… to cover himself… to do something but he felt like his body was encased in cement or his bones were made of jelly, making it impossible to move.

Peter walked around to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers back and lying beside Stiles, pulling the boy to his chest, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ cold chest and breathing in his scent.  “If you’re a good boy, Stiles,” Peter said, his breath tickling Stiles’ skin.  “That won’t have to happen again.”

Stiles said nothing.  He was too tired.  He just wanted to sleep.  He was just glad Peter didn’t touch him more than the hands resting against his ribs just under the painful bruises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter TW: Rope, non-con bondage. 
> 
> So What do you think of the story so far? 
> 
> Also, I have found nice pictures of what the ropes would be like, none of them are perfect, but they’re as close as the internet had to offer. I’ll post them on my tumblr along with a brief description of why they are slightly wrong as soon as I’m done posting this chapter.
> 
> Now, I will most likely be taking a hiatus while I write more. I’ll post daily updates on my tumblr with the tag, “Castle in the clouds fic update”
> 
> Merry Christmas :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/6/14

Stiles’ whole body ached.  The cuts around his wrists twisted and pulled and burned.  Stiles didn’t need to open his eyes to know that the wounds that had scabbed over the night before had pulled open and his blood dripped down to the sheets under him.

His muscles screamed in protest with every shift.  He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped his lips at the pain.  Stiles opened his eyes and frowned at the white walls of the room, not moving to wipe the tear that fell from the pain.

There was no way he would be moving any time soon.  There was too much pain.  The skin around his wrists burned and throbbed as he lay on the bed.  He was almost afraid to look at the damage last night’s actions had caused him.

He licked his lips and shifted a little in bed, wincing at the pain.  He stared at his bare arms that were covered in dried blood and deep gashes from the rope.  He could barely see the holes where Peter had dug his claws into the boy’s skin under all the blood…

Stiles stared at his arms with a detached feeling.  Logically, he knew the wounds must hurt more than he’d feeling, but he didn’t care. 

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound was his breathing and the near-silent whir of the heater. 

There was a quiet knock at the door, Stiles didn’t move. 

He waited until the knock sounded again, a little louder this time. 

Addie didn’t say anything as she slowly cracked the door open, peeking in the room with the wine bottle in her hands.

Neither of them said anything.  Addie threw the door open and took two large steps towards the bed.  She stopped, her hands tightening on the wine bottle before she gave him a small smile.  “I’m glad you’re awake.”  She said.  She pulled a glass out of her sleeve and filled it with the wine.

Sitting the bottle on the bedside table, she slowly knelt beside the bed by Stiles’ head and gently ran her hand over Stiles’ short hair.  She brought the glass to his lips, “Drink.  You’ll feel better.”  She whispered, slowly tipping the glass back for him to take small sips, and keeping the hand on his hair to keep him from drinking too quickly.

When she was satisfied that he’d gotten enough, she pulled the glass away and sat it on the table with the bottle.  She stayed on her knees by him, gently running her fingertips over Stiles’ scalp.  Her nails gently scratched the top of his head in soothing motions.

Stiles closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to go away.  His muscles still ached, but he could move without the pain making him feel sick to his stomach… when he opened his eyes again, Addie was staring at him with a look in her eyes that disappeared before Stiles could place what it was. 

She smiled at him, her red lips stretched thin over her teeth.  “Can you sit?”  She asked, pulling her hands away from Stiles. 

Stiles nodded and pushed himself up, biting his lip to stop the noise the threatened to escape him.  He sat still for a moment, breathing deep against the pain with his eyes closed.  When he could breathe normally, he looked up at Addie.

Addie stared at the boy’s chest with pursed lips and an unreadable expression.  She looked at him and smiled, “Can you stand or would you rather clean up in bed?”

He didn’t answer, instead he pushed the covers off his legs, breathing deeply to push through the tightness in his limbs.  He stood, wobbling dangerously before Addie appeared at his side with a hand on his elbow, keeping him upright.

“Come on then.”  She said, leading him towards the bathroom slowly. 

When they made it across the floor, she carefully sat him down on the closed toilet seat.  He winced at the pain on his tailbone.  He must have bruised it when he fell to the ground. 

For the first time that morning, Stiles looked down at his body.  He was only mildly embarrassed about being in his underwear in front of Addie, but shock drowned out the embarrassment.  His legs were crossed with dark purple bruises; he traced the marks down his thighs to his bloody ankles where the rope must have cut his skin.

His ribs were also covered in dark purple lines.  He could tell exactly where the rope laid against his pale skin.  The bruises looked even worse on his arms.

They were barely visible under the thick layer of blood covering them, but from what he could see, they were _bad_.  Drops of blood leaked out of the shining gashes on his wrists.  He winced as Addie turned on the faucet of the sink, warming the water and fishing a fluffy green towel from the cabinet.

She hummed as she wet the wash cloth and moved in front of Stiles.  She knelt, her dark red dress fanned out around her, covering Stiles’ cold bare feet with cloth and tickling Stiles’ bare legs.  She gently took his fingers in her hands.  She turned his and over, examining the skin on the insides of his forearms.   “How about I tell you the rest of the story, Stiles?”

Stiles shrugged, wincing as the movement pulled at his bloody skin.

Addie smiled at him and pulled a small box about the size of a small lunch box from her sleeves.  “Where were we?”  She sat the box on the floor, “Oh I remember.  The queen had to run, disguised as a common woman.” 

She clicked the latches on the box and carefully opened the lid.  “With a sadness so profound it broke her heart every morning she woke,” The sweet smell that rose from the contents of the box made Stiles’ nose itch.  “She left her beloved kingdom and her family, leaving her kingdom to her father, all to protect her throne and her kingdom.” 

Stiles leaned forward to look in the box.  There were small bundles of plants and tiny dark glass bottles that clinked as she lowered the lid to the ground, a row of clean white wraps lines the top of the box, strapped tightly to the lid.

Addie reached back into her sleeve, “She set out on the dusty road with nothing to her name but light and kindness.”  She removed a small white marble bowl.  “She slept in the trees, high above the ground where the leaches lie in wait for their taste of her fair flesh.”  She sat the bowl at Stiles’ feet.

He watched as she plucked bits of plants off their bundles, dropping dried flowers into the bowl.

“Every morning she braided her long hair with wildflowers and drank spring water from pools in the earth.”  She dropped more flowers into the bowl.

Stiles frowned at the bowl as Addie’s hand disappeared into the sleeve of her dress.  She brought a long oval-shaped, shiny white stone that matched the bowl.  “She met a guardian on her travels,” she said, “by chance, under the light of the full moon in the pool at the mouth of the valley she stayed in that night.”

She gently scooped the bowl off the floor, “He dressed plainly,” she said.  “He didn’t want to distract from is mission.”  The sounds of the clinking stones filled the small room as she gently smashed the dried flowers in the bowl.  “He was destined to protect his people.  Not as a king, but as a knight in drab armor, standing watch over his small kingdom and his family with diligence.”

The flowers turned into dark flecks under the stone as she twisted her hand, changing the clanking sound to a dry grinding noise.  “He saved her from rats dressed as thieves in the jungles.  He led her out of the dangerous, dark woods to the safety of his castle, away from the demons in the night that were hunting for her.  All without knowing her royal ties.”

She sat the bowl down on the floor, carefully picking a small glass vial from the top of the box.  “The queen had nowhere else to go.”   Addie said, tilting the bottle from side to side to look at the liquid inside.  “Every corner of her kingdom was so far out of her reach, she couldn’t even see it on the horizon.”  She carefully dumped the liquid in the bottle into the bowl.  “So she stayed with her kind protector in his small castle.”

Addie carefully picked the bowl up off the ground, using the smooth stone to mix the dried flowers with the oil.  “She fell in love with-”

“Enough.”  Stiles said, leaning back against the cold porcelain toilet bowl.

Addie gave a small start at his interruption.  “Stiles-” she started.

“Why are you doing this?”  Stiles asked, gesturing to the bowl in her hands and the bandages in the box.

The woman at his feet smiled and laughed a little.  “I care about you, Stiles.  I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Stiles scoffed.  “You say that, and yet you make me stay here in this…”  Stiles looked around the room, “House and tell me stories about Castles and Queens and you expect-” He scoffed again, the noise sounding more like a whimper.

Addie surged up, grabbing his chin in an iron grip.  She tilted his head until he had no choice but to look at her.  “Stop it.”  She said, her voice harsh.  “You can’t afford to show this much.”

Stiles tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let him go.

“Stiles, look at me.”  When Stiles slowly followed her order, she continued, “If I could take you and run, I would.”  She said, “But Peter would follow you to Beacon Hills.  He’d know where you would want to go.  He’d follow you and completely destroy everything.”   She carefully let go of Stiles’ chin, resting her palm on the boy’s cheek instead.  “He’ll kill everyone to get to you.  That girl, Scott, your dad… Everyone.   Except for you.” 

When Stiles flinched, she soothed her hand across his cheek.  “When you find them dead, he’ll bring you back here.”

Addie stood, picking the towel up off the counter and running steaming water over the cloth.  She slowly knelt by Stiles’ feet again.  “You’ve run twice now.”  She said, gently running the hot cloth over the blood on his wrist over the cut, making Stiles hiss in pain.  “And you were punished for it each time.”  Her voice was distant, almost cold as she cleaned the blood off Stiles’ arm.  “It’s time to stop playing around.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but Addie held up the rag covered in his blood to silence him.  “I want you to understand, Stiles.”  She stared at his arms as she rubbed the blood away, revealing bruises and red flesh around the harsh rope burns and cuts.  She gently wiped away the blood from the claw marks, wincing as the boy flinched.  “I really do care about you.”

“Why?”  Stiles asked, his voice hoarse from pain.

Addie smiled at his arm, and stood up, wringing the bloody water out of the towel.  She rewet the cloth in the steaming water.  She moved back to him, kneeling by his legs again and carefully wiping away all traces of blood from his arm.  ~~~~

Whatever Addie had made in the bowl made the room smell like a strange mix of herbs and burnt sugar when she stirred it again.  She looked up at him, carefully moving Stiles’ arm around, checking to make sure she cleaned all the blood off that arm. 

After she was satisfied, she dipped her fingertips into the liquid.  She mixed it twice and pressed her fingers to Stiles’ wounded wrist softly, tracing the torn flesh.

Stiles gasped in discomfort, but didn’t pull away.  “What is that?  And you never answered my question.”  Stiles said as she rubbed the thick oil onto Stiles’ arm in small circles.

Addie smiled as she applied more oil, rubbing it in circles as tingles ran under the oil.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  She said simply.

She returned to her work, rubbing the oil into Stiles’ arm from wrist to elbow.  After she was done, she picked a white wrap from the box.  She wrapped his arm, wrapping the oil to his skin.  When she taped the cloth down with the medical tape she got from the box, she started to speak, “Peter won’t fuck you unless you say yes.”   Her voice was distant again.  She stood, moving to the sink to reapply warm water to the cloth. 

The oil under the cloth started to make the skin tingle like his arm had fallen asleep.  He stared at it, gently running his fingertips over the clean white bandages with his other hand.

“However” she said, kneeling at his feet again, taking his other arm from where it pressed against the cloth.  “If you continue to say no for a while,” the water scrubbed the dried blood off his skin, “He may lose control.”  She didn’t make eye contact with Stiles as she spoke.  “Or maybe…. Maybe he’ll just get tired of waiting.”

Stiles wrapped his bandaged arm around his stomach, starting to feel sick.

She knelt at his feet again, cleaning the last of the blood off his arm.  “If he loses control, or gets bored,” She said, “The sex will be terrible.”  She ignored Stiles’ flinch, tossing the rag on the counter and picking her bowl of oil off the floor.  “It will hurt, and you might not even survive.”

The breath was squeezed from his lungs, and tears stung his eyes. 

“Hey!”  She said loudly, making him jump.  Addie’s eyes burned into him, “Remember what I said.  Don’t cry.”  She softened.  “Believe me.”  She said, “If there was any other option, I wouldn’t allow this to happen.”  She quickly wrapped Stiles’ arm.  She said nothing as she taped it closed and lifted Stiles’ arms over his head.  “Keep your arms here.”  She said, “I’ll put oil on your back.”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, “It heals the bruises.  With the oil, your bruises will be gone by morning.”   Stiles snapped his mouth shut.

“Now,” She said, turning him so she could work on his back.  “I know this won’t be easy.”  She rubbed the oil into the center of Stiles’ back, where the knot that held his arms in place was the night before.  She leaned over him, her long hair tickling the boy’s skin.  “But trust me; if you make Peter believe you want him, it will be so much easier on you.”  Her voice was quiet.  “There won’t be as much pain.  You’ll be freer if you choose it when it’s done.  He’ll trust you more.”  Addie pushed Stiles’ arms up a bit more from where he let them fall while she was talking.  She quickly wrapped his torso in clean bandages, and taped it down in the middle of his lower back.

Addie turned him again so he was facing forward, rubbing the oil onto this thigh.  She hummed a little tune as she wrapped his leg, making sure that the cloth wasn’t wrapped too tight for him, and that it wasn’t too loose so that it would slip off as he moved. 

The tingling under the oil didn’t stop like he thought it would.  It was a strange mix of itchy and tickly that made him want to scratch all of his skin off.

He didn’t even realize he was scratching at his ribs until Addie’s hand circled around his gauze wrapped wrist.  “Don’t scratch.”  She pulled her hands back and carefully moved back, stretching Stiles’ leg out in front of him to get to his calf easier.

She stared at the blood on his ankles and shook her head.  Her skirt brushed Stiles’ skin as she stood, moving over to the sink to rewet the towel she had tossed. 

The water she wrung out of the towel ran pink down the drain.

Stiles leaned back against the tank, the cool porcelain cooling his too warm, injured ribs through the bandage covering them.  He rested his head against the wall, ignoring the way his muscles complained at the stretch, as Addie moved back to kneel at his feet.

“We are nearly done.”  She said without looking up from his bruised leg.  “After I finish you can sleep until dinner.  How does that sound?”  She glanced up at him for half a second before looking back at the towel that was growing cold in her grip.

Stiles didn’t bother answering her.  He sat silently as she quickly cleaned the dried blood off his ankle.  Her long fingernails poked at the underside of his foot as she held the boy’s ankle.  The tingling under the bandages started to really bother him as she put the oil on his skin.  He shifted, trying to get the feeling to stop.

Addie looked up at the movement.  The light tune filled the air again and Stiles closed his eyes, loosing himself in the woman’s music as Addie rubbed the oil on his bruised skin.

Before long, Addie was finished cleaning the blood of his limbs and she put the bowl that still smelled like the thick oil that made his skin tingle back into the box and slipped the container into the sleeve of her dress.

Stiles was too tired and uncomfortable to question it as she stood, stooping low to pick him up like he weighed nothing.  She carried the boy back into the bed and gently lowered him on the sheets at the middle of the bed, smiling down at him as she moved back over to the chair at the edge of the bed.

The bed caught and pulled on the oil soaked bandages.  It made the tingling feel like ten thousand bugs under the cloth.  Stiles fought the urge to wiggle around and use the bed to scratch at his itchy skin as the ache tightened his muscles.

Addie poured wine into the glass she left on the nightstand with a small hard smile on her face.  She stared at the dark liquid for a moment before she moved back to Stiles’ side.  She gently urged him to sit up and move against the headboard to help him sit. 

She kept a hand on the back of the boy’s shoulder as she raised the glass of wine to his lips. 

Stiles said nothing as the woman knelt at his side, her dress tucked underneath her knees, flowing over the edge of the bed as she helped the boy drink.  He was too tired to even bother to lift his arms as she gently pressed the glass to his lips, letting him drink his fill.

When the glass was empty, she pulled it away and slid off the bed.  Stiles let his head fall back against the hard wooden headboard.  His eyelids fluttered shut and the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding rushed out of his lungs as the wine made every muscle in his body relax. 

The fogginess settled back over his mind, silencing all thought before it was born as Addie turned on the television to the history channel.

They sat in silence as the documentary played quietly.  Stiles’ head drooped as he started to drift off sitting on the bed.   Just as Stiles was sure he’d fall asleep to the gentle sounds of the television and his own breath, the door to the hall burst open and slammed against the wall so hard, Stiles was fairly sure the door knob broke through the drywall.

Stiles jumped awake, his bandaged arms flailing out in fear as Peter stormed into the room.  Addie jumped up, still holding the remote in front of her like a sword as she jumped in front of Peter, blocking his path to the closet.  “Peter, what’s happened?”  her voice was quiet and calming as she spoke to him, he hands hovering over Peter’s shoulders without touching as she took in the blood staining his cut up clothes.

Peter grabbed Addie’s wrist in a grip that looked painful and took the remote out of her hand.  “Let me show you.”  He said, tossing her wrist away so hard it almost knocked Addie to the ground.  Peter pointed the remote at the television, changing it from the documentary to the national news station he and Addie watched before.

They watched as the same newswoman who talked about Stiles’ disappearance listed the descriptions of the carefully drawn black and white picture of Peter’s burned face.

“Peter-” Addie began, but Peter cut her off.

“Keep him here.”  He said, not bothering to turn to look at Stiles who was still frozen on the bed, watching as his picture was put side by side with Peter’s on the screen.  The wolf walked into the closet, leaving the door open as he all but ripped the shirt off his body with more force than was probably necessary, letting the torn fragments flutter to the ground.

Addie glanced at Stiles as she turned off the television in the middle of the news woman’s bland plea for Stiles’ safety… She sat the remote down in front of the TV, moving slowly like she thought that if she moved too quickly the whole place would explode.  She wrung her hands and carefully stepped to the closet door.

“Peter?”  She asked, her voice soft and soothing, “What are you going to do?”

The wolf slowly walked past her with a smirk on his face.  “I’ll be back by dinner.”   He didn’t bother with closing the door that still had the knob lodged into the drywall as he strode out of the room.

Addie stared after him with her back to Stiles.  The boy leaned forward, the bandages pulling on his oil covered skin, making the strange tingling feeling spread across his skin again.  “Addie?”  Stiles asked, starting to try to stand.

The woman looked down, her long black hair falling forward across her shoulders, showing pale white skin on the backs of her shoulders covered in black marks.  Stiles frowned at them, trying to see through the locks of hair to see what the tattoo was, but the woman squared her shoulders and tossed her hair back, covering the marks before he could see what they were.

She turned with a hard smile that didn’t reach her eyes.  She strode over to the small table where she left the bottle of wine and pulled another glass out of her sleeve.  “Well…” she said, putting the glass next to Stiles’ on the table and picking up the bottle.  She gave it a little shake before pouring a generous amount of wine into each glass, “it seems like we’re going to need more wine.”

Stiles stared at her as she held a glass out to him.  “What happened?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab the wine and sleep until it no longer felt like there were ten thousand ants crawling on his skin under the bandages.

Addie pursed her lips, gently picking up Stiles’ hand to press the glass on his palm until he grabbed it.  “He needs to plug a leak…” she said, “now drink.”   She let go of the glass when Stiles had taken it from her and picked her own off the table.  She whispered against the glass at her lips, “Drink and sleep, Stiles.”

* * *

“Stiles…” Addie’s gentle, sing songy voice pulled him from sleep.  When he opened his eyes, the golden late afternoon sun painted her pale face in gold, and her green eyes shimmer brilliantly.  “It’s time for dinner.”

Slowly, Stiles sat up, wincing at the way the bandages pulled at his skin.  He sat still for a moment, frowning at the small ache that settled into his joints.

Addie clicked her tongue, “Come on, Stiles.  I’ll give you wine when we get downstairs.”  She walked towards the closet across the room and hummed her little song as she walked, slowly swaying from side to side, in no rush to get to dinner on time.

Stiles sat at the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over the edge, too tired to really care about much more than keeping himself upright.

His eyes had nearly slipped shut again when Addie stepping in front of him, “Stiles.” She said gently, her fingertips hovering over his skin.  “You need to get dressed before we go downstairs.  Peter will be here soon,” she whispered, “He wants everyone in the dining room when he returns.”

He turned sluggishly to the pile of clothing that the woman sat beside him.  Black sweatpants and a plain black tee shirt with a red plaid over-shirt sat on the emerald green comforter for him, but he had absolutely no motivation to put them on.  He didn’t give a damn what Peter expects.   

Addie frowned at him, picking up on resistance.  She clicked her tongue again, trying to sound cheerful but only sounding forced when she said, “Now, now… the faster we get downstairs, the faster we can go back to sleep.”  She picked up the shirt and turned back to him.  “I’m going to help you dress.  Then we are going to go downstairs, we are going to stay calm no matter what happens.  Do you understand, Stiles?”

Stiles said nothing.  He stared between her face and the hole in the drywall next to the door with worry nagging at his heart.  “What’s going to happen?”  Stiles asked, not protesting as Addie raised his arms over his head to pull the tee shirt over the bandages.

She didn’t look at him.  Her lips pursed as she grabbed the over shirt, “I don’t know.”  She said the words like they caused her physical pain speaking them.  Her eyes were intense when she stared at Stiles, “But I promise, you will not be harmed if I can help it.  Do you understand?”

When Stiles nodded with wide eyes, her intense expression shifted to a light smile.  “Great.” She said lightly.  The smile didn’t leave her face as she carefully pulled the long sleeves over his arms. 

“Now,” she said, “I’m going to help you put on your pants, and when we are done with dinner you will sleep.”  She picked up the sweatpants and gently put both of his ankles in the legs.  “And in the morning, before you go downstairs with Peter, I’ll take your bandages off.  The bruises should be mostly gone by then.”  She held her hand out to help him out of bed. 

When he was standing, she let him use her arm as a crutch as she led him to the door, “Peter is not back yet.  So we can talk freely here.”  She said, “It’s important that you don’t overreact to whatever is going to happen in the dining room when the Alpha returns.”

“Why?”  Stiles asked quietly when they got in the hall.

Addie smiled at him, “If you disobey or get in his way, you’ll be punished again.”  She stared ahead as they walked down the steps, “Your only thought while you are here,” she whispered, “Is survival.  Anything else is dangerous distraction.”

Stiles opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him, “Hush.”  She stopped in the middle of the hall by the stairs, “We’re getting to the point where the pack can hear.”  She whispered, “Trust no one.  You have no idea where their loyalties lie.”

“I have no idea where _your_ loyalties lie.”  Stiles whispered.

Her smile was dazzling, like she was so delighted that Stiles said that.  “I also never told you that you should trust me.  I told you that you didn’t have another choice.”  She turned, gently placing her handover Stiles’ in a comforting gesture as he leaned on her, “We’re expected downstairs.”

They said nothing more as they slowly walked down the stairs.

When they got to the second to last floor, the sound of loud, happy voices drifted to them.   The closer they got to the dining room, the louder the laughing and talking got.  Stiles had never heard the betas sound so happy…

The sound didn’t stop when they crossed through the hall door into the dining room.  The betas all sat on either side of the tables, laughing and hanging off of each other with wide smiles.  Addie led him to the front table where the ‘important’ betas sat without Adelaide, talking quietly to each other.

When Stiles and Addie neared the table, their whispers stopped.  They stared at the pair as Addie led him to the seat that was always left open for him.  He pretended not to notice the eyes the burned holes into the side of his head, as Addie poured wine from a bottle that was much fuller than it had been that morning.

Addie carefully placed the wine in front of him on the table.  She stood, and the room fell silent instantly, all of the betas listening for her command with bright faces, “Alpha Hale has given the order to begin dinner before he returned.”  She smiled at them and waved her hands out, gesturing for the betas seated on the ends of the tables to run out of the room toward what Stiles assumed was the kitchen.

She sat back down and smiled at Stiles, “Drink.” She said, folding her legs beneath her long skirt and twining her fingers together on her lap.

Stiles picked up the glass, wincing as the bandages caught on the cuts under them.  He raised the glass to his lips, the scent of the liquid making his mouth water, he drained the glass quickly, sighing in relief as the fogginess settled over his brain, taking all the worry and pain away.

He leaned against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.  When he opened them again, Addie had her hand on his cloth covered arm and a plate full of delicious looking food.  “Eat.” She said, “Peter should be back soon.”

She removed her hand and started to eat, cutting pieces of meat with a fork and knife, holding the utensils awkwardly in her fists like she was never taught to use both at the same time and she never quite mastered the skill.

Stiles stared at her hands for a moment as she struggled with the tools.  “Addie.”  He said quietly.  When she looked up at him, he picked up the fork and knife like his father had taught him when he was a kid and held his hands up for her to see.

Addie stared at his hands for a second in confusion before careful mimicking how he placed his fingers, loosening her tight grip on the silver, and slowly following along as Stiles showed her how to cut the meat and bring it to his lips.

She slowly chewed the piece of ham she cut off.  When she was finished, she smiled, “Thank you.”

Stiles returned her small smile, “Don’t mention it, my mom didn’t know how to use them either…”

Her smile widened, showing shiny white teeth in what had to be the biggest smile he’d seen from her since they met.  She turned back to the table, cutting the food on her plate easily.

They ate in silence for a moment longer before her ears perked up.  Barely half a second later, the happy noises from the pack disappeared and the room fell silent.  Addie picked up Stiles’ glass and filled it; she grabbed Stiles’ hand and forced the glass onto his palm.  “Drink, quickly.” She ordered.

Stiles didn’t argue.  He tilted the glass back, quickly drinking the cool liquid.

Addie took the glass from him and refilled it.  She placed the glass in front of Stiles on the table, grabbing his hand when he reached for it.  “Only if you need it.”  She whispered, barely audible in the deathly quiet room.

No one moved.  The forks and knives were left on the plates and the betas all sat with their heads down and their hands on their laps.

Just as Stiles was going to ask what was going on, he could hear the crying. 

He leaned forward, trying to see through the door that was left cracked open at the end of the room, but he couldn’t get far.  Addie quickly pressed her hand to Stiles’ forearm, keeping him seated as the crying and sounds of begging got louder as whoever it was got closer to the room.

Stiles flinched as the door at the farthest end of the room slammed open, revealing Peter dragging a crying woman into the dining room in front of the pack.

Addie’s hand tightened on his arm as he tried to lurch out of his seat to help the woman.  Peter strode into the room toward Stiles’ table with the woman trying as hard as she could to walk with him.

The stranger had long, tangled orangey red hair with dirt and dead leaves trapped inside it, and a small dress that was once white, but was torn and covered in blood and dirt.  Dirt covered nearly every inch of her exposed skin and deep cuts covered her legs…

Peter threw her hair away from him, making her head smack on the ground with a sickening smack.  The woman whimpered form the floor, her whole frame shaking like a leaf as the dress fell away, leaving her all but naked in front the pack.  She shifted, pushing herself up to try and stand, her filthy hair falling back to expose her face.

The nurse from the hospital in Beacon Hills watched Peter circle her like a wounded animal, her lips not quite closing over too sharp teeth. 

It looks like she was dragged over rocks and dead leaves… like Peter dragged her from Beacon Hills.

“You betrayed us.”  Peter said, his voice like ice in the room that was filled with only the woman’s loud breath.  “You betrayed your pack.”

She stared at the ground, “I’m sorry!” she yelled, her breath coming short gasps that shook her whole frame.  “I’m so sorry!  I didn’t know what to do!”

“Enough.” Peter said with a voice like a whip, making the woman fall to the floor and hide her face in her folded, bruised arms.  He turned to the betas at the other tables, “She disobeyed.  She betrayed us.  She’s going to die.”

Peter circled the crying woman on the floor.  The betas watched them silently with their food long forgotten. 

Stiles started shaking with the urge to get up, to help the woman somehow… whatever she has done shouldn’t be deserving of this punishment. 

Peter grabbed the woman’s hair, wrenching her head back and forcing a scream from her lips.  Her pale eyes were wide and frightened as tears fell down her cheeks.

Stiles pulled at his arm that was still in Addie’s grip.  He felt his heart beat painfully fast in his chest as the wolf’s fingers turning into claws.  “Peter, stop!”  Stiles cried at the wolf, fear and desperation clear in his voice.  When he tried to stand, the hand on his arm tightened until the grip became almost painful; keeping him where he was.  “Stop, Please!”  The wolf ignored his pleas; Stiles pushed at the hand on his arm, ignoring the pain it brought as his cries went unanswered.

Neither of the wolves listened to him. 

Peter’s hand rose high above his head, claws splayed wide as the rest of the pack watched them. 

Stiles pulled at his arm, trying to get out of the chair to do something to help the girl crying on the floor, but Addie’s grip stayed firm.

Peter’s eyes locked with Stiles’ for a moment before he swung his arm down, spilling her blood onto the black and white tiles underneath her body.

The wolf held the girl up as her body jerked. 

Gurgles filled the air as she tried to breathe or scream through her broken, bloody throat.

Her body slumped to the floor with a thud when Peter let go of her tangled hair.  

There was silence that felt like it stretched for an eternity, Stiles couldn’t even breathe. 

_Blood is darker than it is in the movies_ … He stared at the girls’ face as the blood spread out in a wide circle under her body until it brushed up against Peter’s shoes. 

Stiles felt Peter’s eyes burn holes into his skin, but he couldn’t break eye contact with the dead girl at the wolf’s feet. 

Her wide eyes were full of the terror that filled her face… she looked so much younger in death than she did in the hospital.

Minutes or hours passed and Peter was beside him.  Stiles flinched back against the chair back, arms coming up to ward against the wolf in front of him.  Addie must have let his arm go when the girl was dying.

Stiles couldn’t even draw breath to protest when he was all but dragged out of his chair.  Peter had a tight grip around his bandaged wrist, making Stiles gasp in pain as the bandages shifted, breaking the scabs formed around the cuts and claw marks. 

Peter pulled him away from the table, knocking over the chair that Stiles was sitting on when Stiles flailed uselessly against the wolf’s grip.  The wood smacked against the floor, making Stiles flinch and almost fall to the floor, but Peter didn’t stop.  He dragged the boy to the door that he walked through every day to the bedroom.

Before Peter pulled Stiles into the hallway, the boy turned back. 

The wolves sat still, staring at their plates with expressions that ranged from fear to blank to smirks painted on their faces, and Addie sat with her hands folded tightly on her lap, staring straight ahead.

Everything was moving too fast.  Stiles couldn’t focus on anything, he couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t think. 

He didn’t even have the chance to calm down enough to stop stumbling over his feet when Peter all but threw him against the bed, not bothering to turn on the lights when the light of the setting sun was bleeding into the room through the curtains Stiles didn’t remember closing.

Stiles could barely breathe as the wolf smirked down at him like the boy was prey just waiting to be eaten. 

Peter’s bloody fingers made quick work of the buttons on his own shirt, leaving the cloth in a pile behind him before moving lower to the bloodstained jeans he wore.  Panic curled around Stiles’ throat as Peter took off his pants, leaving the wolf completely naked in front of him. 

He looked away.  Stiles’ head spun with every blink, the girl’s face staring back at him from his eyelids every time he closed his eyes. 

Peter leaned towards him, his smirk widening when the boy flinched away from the bare chest at his eye level.  His hands fell back to brace himself against the soft bed behind him, pulling himself closer to the middle of the bed as the wolf leaned close to him.

Before the boy got too far away from him, Peter grabbed his hips, keeping him still while the wolf sniffed the fear and panic that clung to the air around him.  When Peter pulled back, he smirked with teeth that were a bit too pointed to be completely human.

The hands on his hips jerked up his torso to tear through the thin over shirt like it was made of paper.  Peter pulled it off Stiles’ shoulders before the boy could even process that what happened.  He tried to get away… but the wolf wasn’t fazed at all, no matter how much Stiles struggled and fought against the wolf’s hold on his hips.

Peter cut through the thin tee shirt as easily as the over shirt and it soon joined the pile of mutilated cloth behind him on the bed.

Stiles pushed at the wolf’s hands, using his short nails to try to scratch the strong hands.  When he made contact with the surprisingly soft skin on the wolf’s hands with his fingernails, Peter snapped his hands up, circling his fingers around the boy’s wrists, trapping him.

The fogginess that has clouded his brain fought against the panic and fear curling around his system, tightening his throat and making it hard to breathe as the wolf leaned close to Stiles to breathe in the scent of the war inside of him. 

Peter jerked the boy’s arms in front of him to grab hold of both of the boney wrists in one of his big hands. 

He used his free hand to press a single sharp claw at the hollow of Stiles’ throat, applying just enough pressure to break the skin and make Stiles gasp in pain.  “My claws are much more effective, Stiles.” Peter said through sharp teeth.  “Don’t be stupid.”  He said, his claw dragging a thin cut down the center of his pale chest to the start of the clean white bandage over his bruises.  “Did Adrasteia do this?”

Stiles said nothing.

The claws teasing against the cloth wrapped around the boy’s torso snapped up to his jaw, gripping painfully tight against the bone and wrenching his head back.  “I asked you a question, Stiles.”  The wolf said, “Answer it.”

He pulled at his hands trapped in the wolf’s grip.  But it was useless.  The grip was too tight, his muscles were too weak… he couldn’t pull away.  Stiles glared up at the wolf with a frown, “yes.”  He hissed, the word getting trapped between his teeth and coming out jumbled.

Peter released the boy’s chin, letting his clawed hand trail back down his chest.  The fog settled back over his mind completely, making it hard to fight against the wolf’s hold…

Hard to remember why he should be fighting against it at all.

Before he could figure out what to do in his foggy brain, Peter flipped him onto his stomach against the middle of the bed with his head cushioned on the pillows and his hands trapped under his chest.

There was a brief moment of panic and confusion at the sudden change of position, but it was quickly drowned out with nausea and complete panic as the wolf settled behind him, his bare chest pressed firmly against Stiles’ back and his hips pressing Stiles into the bed.

Stiles tried to slide away from Peter, tried to lift himself up enough to free his hands, but the wolf’s weight kept him trapped on his stomach.

Peter’s sickingly hot breath huffed across his skin on the back of his neck in short huffs.  The wolf growled low in his throat, sniffing the fear from Stiles’ neck. 

The first hard roll of Peter’s hips shocked the breath from Stiles’ lungs, the motion making the mattress rub against his dick and a whimper to escape his throat.  Sparks of arousal pierced through the fear, despite himself.   He felt sick…

How could he _like_ this?

Peter sniffed at his neck again, breathing in the scent of the boy’s arousal and fear.   He growled low in his throat and grabbed Stiles’ hip in a tight grip.  The wolf pulled the boy’s hips up enough to get his free hand under his torso to wrap around his throat.

Stiles tried to pull away, to get away from the wolf lifting him to his knees on the bed, but the fog in his head made his limbs heavy and too hard to move on his own. 

The hands on his boney hip and slender throat moved to his hands that were still trapped against his chest.  Peter pulled his wrists to the pillow so the boy’s elbows were holding him up with his ass elevated and pressed against Peter’s hips. 

Peter’s cock pressed through the thin fabric of the sweat pants Addie dressed him in.  Stiles could feel him pushing between his cheeks as the wolf thrust against him with enough force to rock his whole body forward.

The wolf roughly trailed his hand back to the boy’s hip, and slipped up Stiles’ torso to wrap around his throat, keeping them where he wanted them as he thrust his hips again with a low groan.  

Stiles whimpered as the wolf buried his face between his shoulder blades at the back of his neck, his harsh breaths hot against his back.

After a few more thrusts and tears that leaked from Stiles’ eyes, Peter moved his hand from Stiles’ throat to tease the edge of his sweatpants.  He pulled the elastic enough to slip his hand into the boy’s pants to wrap his thankfully human fingers around Stiles’ dick. 

Stiles gasped at the sensation as the little sparks of arousal that were mostly masked by fear and pain changed until his dick was fully hard in the wolf’s grip.

He gasped out a sob mixed with a moan as the wolf quickly jacked Stiles off in time with the thrust of his hips.  The fog in his head made everything seem distant… Like everything the wolf was doing to him was happening to someone else… some other unlucky kid…

It wasn’t long before Stiles felt his orgasm shudder through him.  He came with a choked off moan, his arms too weak to hold him up any longer as the wolf thrust against his ass. 

Stiles was silent as Peter groaned, hot stripes of come spread across his back.  His own orgasm left him shaky as Peter lowered them both to the bed, curling the boy against his chest.  Peter gently ran his hand down Stiles’ arm as he pulled the blankets over them.  “You’ve given me an idea, Stiles.”

He said nothing.

“If you misbehave again,” The wolf breathed against his neck, “I’ll have to tie you to the bed…” He sniffed at his neck, breathing in the scent of panic and come, “To teach you how to behave.”

Stiles said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con frottage, Bad touch, and bruises as the trigger warnings in this chapter. I also recommend going back to the end of chapter 8 to reread the first bit of Addie’s story.
> 
> Unfortunately, I couldn’t find pics of bruises that I liked. But these are some BAD bruises. Those yucky multicolored ones where they’re dark purple and red and kinda swollen…
> 
> Happy (Slightly late) Ash Wednesday :) A catholic friend of mine gave me a rosary and it was awesome.
> 
> Now, since I have 18 hours of class, I will try to be updating every other week. But I hope you enjoyed my return from hiatus with this monster of a chapter. Tell me what you think because I am very tired and was very tired while I was editing this.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/19/14

“Stiles?”

He said nothing.   The ache in his bones made him think that he’s been lying in the same position for a long time, but he wasn’t sure how long ago the sun started shining on his face and woke him up.

“Stiles?”  Addie repeated, her face appearing in front of the wall he’d been staring at, “I need to check your bandages.”   She looked concerned, pursing her lips into a pout.  “I’m going to take you into the bathroom so I can clean you up.  Alright?”

Still, Stiles said nothing. 

After a moment, Addie gently rested her hand on Stiles’ shoulder, pulling back when he flinched at her touch.  “Stiles.”  She said, her voice quiet in the silent room.  “You need to get up and get cleaned off.”  When he didn’t respond, she continued, “I’m not going anywhere, Stiles, I’m just as stubborn as you are.”  She paused, waiting for an answer that he didn’t give.  “You have to get cleaned up.” 

Slowly, Stiles sat up.  Addie gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she let her hands hover over his skin, still bare from the night before.  Stiles winced as he felt the-

The mess that he was covered in make his pants stiff and itchy.

Addie led him to the bathroom with her hand not quite touching his skin, but close enough to feel the warmth of her skin on his back.  “Take off your pants so I can take the bandages off your legs.” 

He slowly did as he was told, too foggy to do anything quickly. 

She frowned at the pile of fabric on the floor as she gestured for him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. 

When he did as she told, she smiled and slowly let her hand rest on his shoulder.

She knelt at his feet, carefully arranging the dark blue dress she wore around her legs, the material soft against the small pieces of Stiles’ skin that peeked through the bandages.   She carefully wrapped her fingers around the boy’s ankle, raising it up so his foot rested on her thigh. 

Addie quickly unwrapped the bandage from his calf, making his skin tingle just shy of painfully from being wrapped all night. 

Stiles watched as the woman tossed the bandage near the trash can, she studied his leg for a moment before she pulled back with a smile.  He stared at the unbruised skin of his leg. 

The cold air made goosebumps pebble on his slightly pink skin.  He gently ran his fingers over where the lines of bruises crossed around his calves the morning before, frowning in confusion at the baby soft skin under his fingertips, unmarked except for the moles that dotted his skin.

“How does it feel, Stiles?”  The woman asked. 

She frowned at his silence, and quickly moved to unwrap the bandages from his thigh.  Addie worked in silence as she took the bandages off, her fingers lightly brushing his skin as she uncovered the pink, tingly skin that didn’t have a single bruise or cut.

Addie carefully studied his legs when she took the last bit of bandage off his other leg, looking for something that Stiles didn’t care to know.

When she was satisfied with whatever she saw, she shifted closer to him.   The material of her dress felt cold against his skin and felt like silk against the new skin, making him shiver.   She lifted his arms over his head and smiled a little when he kept them where she put them.

She quickly unwrapped the bandages from his ribs.  Stiles watched her deft fingers reveal unbruised skin on his boney ribs with a numb sort of interest, wondering how that oil worked and when he started losing enough weight to be so thin…

When the cloth was piled with the other scraps on the floor, Addie carefully studied his chest and turned him so she could study the new skin on his back.  Once she was satisfied, she carefully pulled his shoulder so he was seated normally again and gently lowered his arms.  “Almost finished, Stiles.”

She started at the boy’s shoulder and quickly unwrapped the bandages, frowning when Stiles winced at the pain in his muscles.  “It’ll feel better soon, Stiles.”  She said, resting her warm hand on his bare shoulder as she tossed the dirty bandages into the pile. 

After she studied his new skin, she quickly moved on to the boy’s forearm.  She unwrapped the bandage and watched the pattern from the cloth fibers quickly fade from his skin.  When she tossed the cloth to the side, and began to study the new skin with a small smile.  The smile faded from her face when she turned his hand over.

“What are these?”  She asked, gently running her fingertips over the old silver scars that stretched across the veins on his wrist. 

Stiles glared at her in silence until she slowly removed her fingers from his skin and returned to her work.

They were silent as she removed the bandages from Stiles’ other arm.  If she saw the old scar from the Wilsons’ dog that bit him when he was 12, she chose not to comment on it.

When the bandages were completely off Stiles’ body, Addie stood.  “Now, I need you to shower…” she turned to the door, “I’ll be in your room when you’re finished.”

Then she was gone and Stiles was alone.  He went through the motions of showering without thinking too much. 

His skin felt… weird as he washed off the remnants of the oil that Addie put on him… Like he had a sunburn that was almost healed…  

Before the fog had fully cleared from his mind, Stiles walked out of the bathroom with a soft towel wrapped around his waist.  He mindlessly walked to the closet and changed into the first pair of sweatpants he saw without bothering to put a shirt on. 

The shower seemed to drain him of all the energy he managed to get that morning, all he wanted to do was lay in his own bed back in Beacon Hills when his only worry was remembering to do his homework…

Addie said something to him that he didn’t bother to pay attention to.  He sat on the edge of the bed by the window as the woman turned on the television to the news station that was on the night before.

The newscaster was wearing dark pink that day.  Her blond hair fell to her shoulders and framed the frown on her face.  “This is the seventh day of the search for Stiles Stilinski-” Addie flipped the channel.

“Turn it back.”  Stiles ordered, his voice rough from lack of use.

Addie glanced at him and hesitated before turning the channel back to the news. 

His picture was up with his description again, and the woman was reading them off.   The picture quickly changed to the roughly drawn picture of Peter with burns on his face.  She read the wolf’s description out loud and said that he’s believed to be the kidnapper.

The camera cut back to the woman in pink, “Our field correspondent is out in northern California at the press conference.”

“Stiles I don’t think this is a good idea.”  Addie said, holding the remote in her fingertips like it might explode.

Stiles ignored her, and watched as the camera cut away to a man in a suit standing behind a podium with the Beacon Hills police department logo.   

The boy straightened up, frowning at Agent McCall on the screen.  That must kill Scott… Stiles swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat that formed at that thought.  He hadn’t seen or heard from his dad in nearly ten years… and Stiles isn’t even there to help him.

He remembered when they were kids, and Scott’s dad’s drinking escalated from “just a little tipsy some night” to fall down drunk every day and night.  Mrs. McCall tried to shield Scott from knowing what his father was doing, so she sent him to Stiles’ house under the guise of sleepovers and playtime.  He knew the real reason his friend was over with him so much, but Scott didn’t…

Stiles’ mother had tried to get Mrs. McCall to come too.  She had told the Drunk that she might need help taking care of the two boys, and Agent McCall had made some smartass remark that implied his mother was a bad parent…

That was the first time he’d ever seen his dad punch anyone.

The man straightened his tie, he had a grim look when he looked at the camera.  The press in front of the podium were shouting questions at him too quickly to get any answers, “Are there any recent developments?”  “What are you planning to do?”  “Is the missing boy still alive?”

Agent McCall ignored these questions.  “We are doing all we can,” he said, “The FBI and the Sheriff’s department are working as hard as possible to find Stiles.”  He nodded to a person off camera.

“Do you believe that the boy is still alive?”  A woman from the side yelled above the din.

The man nodded.  “There is no reason to believe that he is dead.”

Someone shouted from the crowd, “Have there been any new developments in the case?”

“We believe that we are getting closer to finding the boy with-” the crowd to erupt in the press’ loud questions, drowning out whatever Agent McCall was going to say.

The man looked annoyed for a moment, before he all but shouted over the crowd’s noise.  “We ask that the North Western United States keep your eyes open for Stiles Stilinski and Peter Hale.”  The crowd didn’t stop their questions as the agent tried to speak.  “If you see either of them, please contact your local police department or call 911 immediately.”

He stepped away from the podium, away from the noise of the press and disappeared into the Sheriff’s Office.

The sound of the newswoman’s response to the press conference was drowned out by the ringing in Stiles’ ears.  The camera moved from the podium, focusing on a face standing near the doors Agent McCall disappeared into.

The Sheriff stood by the door, staring out at the press in from the station.

Stiles felt a weight on his heart at the sight of his dad.  He looked like hell… his civilian clothes were rumpled and there were dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping well in the week that Stiles had been gone…

Hell, he wasn’t sleeping well before Stiles was taken.   Ever since Scott was bitten, and people where dying, the Sheriff had been working day and night to get whoever he thought the killer was…

This wasn’t fair. 

His dad doesn’t even know the _freaking_ species of the thing that took his son. 

“Get out.”  He said, not looking away from the television as the picture cut away from his dad.

Addie stared at him, “What?” she asked, folding her arms on her lap.

“I said, ‘Get out’.”  He said, glaring at the television.

“Stiles-” she said, not moving from her chair.

Stiles stood up and quickly all but ran around the bed to where Addie sat.   He grabbed her arm with more force than he knew he had after what has happened and pulled her up.

Logically, he knew she was stronger than him.  If she wanted to stay, she would.  His human strength was nothing compared with her werewolf strength… bit she stood anyway.

Stiles dragged her towards the door. 

She stumbled a bit, but she didn’t pull away.  “Stiles!”  Addie said, sounding a bit out of breath.

Sties pulled the door open, “Out…” He said quietly, all but throwing her out of the room into the hallway.  The woman stumbled back against the wall and looked almost betrayed as she stood up straight again.  Stiles slammed the door in her face before she could say anything to him.

There was no lock on his side of the door.   He quickly looked around, looking for something to block the door with.

Addie’s chair seemed to be the only thing that he could use.  He dragged the chair over and propped it under the doorknob like he’d seen in the movies.  It probably wouldn’t really do anything… If any of the werewolves in the building wanted to get in this room, they would.  A single chair wouldn’t stop them, but that’s not the point.

It’s the principle of the thing, really.

Stiles ran a hand through his short hair, gasping for breath as he walked around the room in a tight circle.  His heart was beating faster than was probably healthy, but he didn’t care.

A crack of thunder exploded through the quiet room, making Stiles jump.  He moved to the window and watched the heavy rain beat against the ground.  It almost seemed too cold for rain...

Stiles carefully perched on the edge of the bed by where Addie must have thrown the remote.  He turned to the TV that was still on as the woman in Beacon Hills finished her story. 

If Stiles looked in the background, he could see the group of officers who stood around his father.  He could see someone lean in to whisper something.

The sheriff rubbed at his eyes… like he’d been crying recently.

Stiles stared at him as the camera cut back to the people sitting behind their desk.  He turned off the television before they could make their bland pleas for his safety. 

He stared at the remote for a moment in silence. 

None of this is fair.  He just wanted to go home and he wanted his dad to know what happened… there’s so many things that he’d do differently…

His grip on the remote tightened till his hand shook and his knuckles turned white.   The air seemed to tighten around him, tingling his skin like the thunder and lightning from outside seeped into the room with him.  He closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand.

He has to get home.  He has to make it so the dark circles under his dad’s eyes had a chance to go away… he probably wasn’t eating right either.  Stiles needed to go back home and make sure his dad was ok.

But he’d been over that again and again in his head.  Dozens if not hundreds of times… going over the same information over and over again without figuring everything out.

Stiles’ skin felt stretched too thin, his head was too hot… with a cry born of frustration, he threw the remote in his hand across the room.

The plastic slammed against the wall near the door, shattering and embedding shards into the drywall where it hit.  He wrapped his arms around himself as the heat drained from his body; his knees gave out from under him. 

He crawled to the middle of the bed and wrapped his arms around his knees, hiding his face in the darkness that his arms created.

Tears fell from his eyes.  He didn’t bother wiping them away.

It’s not fair.  None of what had happened-to him- to Scott- _none_ of it- was fair.  What had they all done to deserve this?  He may not be able to say the same of himself, but Scott was a good person.  His dad didn’t deserve to be all alone…

Stiles felt sobs shudder through him.  All he wanted was to go home… 

He stayed like that for a while as the rain and wind beat against the window, rattling the sill.

There was a light tap against the door that made him start.  He didn’t move from his perch on the bed.

After a second, the chair falls away like it was nothing.  It bangs against the floor, but Stiles doesn’t look up, it’s probably Addie trying to teach him to do the impossible again.  He was too tired for that now.  All he wanted to do was cry and sleep and go home.

The bed dipped beside him.  Which was… strange… Addie doesn’t sit on the bed with him.

He flinched as a warm hand settled on his bare shoulder.   The hand was too big to be Addie’s…  Very slowly, the hand slid from his shoulder to one of his hands.  Stiles opened his eyes as his arms were gently pried apart; he looked up as Peter scooped the boy up in his arms.

Stiles gasped out a sob as Peter pulled him onto his lap, curled up like a child with his head on Peter’s chest.

The warmth from the wolf seeped into the boy’s cold skin, making the shivering that Stiles didn’t know about slowly stop as he cried on Peter’s shoulder.  Being so close to the wolf made Stiles uneasy… but it wasn’t like he was comfortable before… and it was a good idea to let Peter think he wanted to be comforted.

The rain poured against the window, thick clouds made the sky dark grey and blocked out the sun.  They sat like that for either a few moments or hours… Stiles didn’t care to know which. 

Stiles’ tears came slower, the sobs stopped tearing through his body, and he looked up.

Peter stared down at him, meeting the boy’s eyes.  “Are you ok now?”

He didn’t notice Peter’s eyes before… clear, cold blue.  Under different circumstances, Stiles might have found the color beautiful…

Now it’s just harsh and cold.

All of this.  Every.  Single. Thing that has happened in the last month… _All of it_ was Peter’s fault.

In that moment, Stiles had an epiphany.  

He knew what he needed to do. 

He’s going to kill Peter.

Addie had told him this before… but that was before he knew what he knows now.  For a brief moment, Stiles pictured Peter bleeding on the ground, lying on his back at Stiles feet as he slowly died, gasping and groaning as pain as the life bled through the wounds near his heart.

Stiles smiled, probably the first real smile he’s given all week.  The look felt like the sunshine on his face.  “I’m fine.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late, but things got a busier than I had intended.
> 
> This is officially the end of Act One, Scene One. Chapter 14 is Act One Scene Two and I should be able to post it in Two Weeks, April 2nd. I hope you like it :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/3/14

Stiles has fallen into a rut.

Every day is the same.

When he wakes up, Peter is gone and he is alone.  He turns on the television to the news station, listening to their babble until there’s an update on his case.  As a day turned into a week, then two, the updates slowed.  The news stopped offering insight to what his father was doing. 

Missing person’s cases that don’t have any interesting updates don’t stay on the news for long.  They only make the public sad. 

He was being phased out of the news.

After that, he grabs a change of clothes from the closet and goes into the bathroom.  He washes the dirty feeling off his skin with too hot water, and stands in the spray, watching the mix of hot water and sweat and his come disappear down the shiny silver drain. 

There’s always an itch on his skin like he was unclean, no matter if he stands under the burning water until his skin turns red, he doesn’t really get clean. 

When he gives up on scrubbing the itch off his skin, and gets out of the bathroom, either Peter or Addie are there, waiting for him.

If Peter is there, he goes into the office and reads the bestiary…

it’s almost 1000 pages of small print with scrawled notes in tiny handwriting, it takes a bit of time to get through it.  He works at letting Peter think feelings other than hatred are growing.  Stiles wasn’t sure if the wolf believes him yet, but he can only trust Addie when she gives him her little updates…

If Addie is there, she sits in her chair by the bed and watches TV and tells him stories and teaches him how to lie…

He could lie to any werewolf now.  It wasn’t nearly as difficult as one would think.  Controlling your heartbeat is a simple thing if you know what you’re doing…

Then comes lunch, where Addie all but makes him eat, telling him that he needs to keep his strength up, and gives him more wine that tastes sweet on his tongue.  Peter never eats lunch with the pack. 

After lunch, Addie drags him upstairs and he is inexplicably tired.  He sleeps until dinner.

After dinner, Peter takes him back to the bedroom and Stiles closes his eyes and tries not to think.

He stretched his stiff muscles when he woke up from the nap he took after lunch that day.  The bed was comfortable against his body, the sheets soft and cool and thankfully empty.

Stiles sat up, glancing out the window at the sunlight stretched into late afternoon rays against the trees.  It ought to be about dinner time…  Peter should come to get him soon.  Stiles stood, flinching at the cold floor under his bare feet. 

He opened the bathroom door and turned the faucet on, letting the cool water run over his fingertips.  He quickly splashed the water over his face, scrubbing the lingering weary feeling out of his eyes.

When he straightened up, his own reflection stared back at him from the mirror above the sink.

His skin was even paler than it had been before he was brought here… he was almost sickly pale under the harsh light, the moles dotting his face stood out starkly against the skin.  Dark shadows curled beneath his eyes, despite sleeping so much…

The cool water still ran over his fingertips, it felt good against his sleep warm skin.  He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, reveling in the feel of the cool water.

Stiles turned his head at the sound from behind the bathroom door.  The bedroom door opened and closed quietly.  He sighed, knowing that dinner was ready and Peter was waiting for him.

He turned off the water and ran his wet hand along the back of his neck, rolling his stiff neck against his hand.  Letting his hand fall to the side, dripping water onto the floor, he slowly dried his hands on the soft towel hanging on the wall, and turned to the door.

It only took a second to compose his face into a soft smile.  He opened the door and willed his smile not to slip when he saw Peter sitting on the side of the bed.  It didn’t take a lot of effort to pretend he didn’t hate it here when Peter was around.  The expressions felt cold on his face, but it wasn’t difficult to keep up the charade.

“Dinner?”  Stiles asked, sitting at the foot of the bed near Peter. 

Peter nodded and stood.  Stiles followed after Peter silently, letting the smile fall off his face.  Peter wouldn’t turn around until they got to the dining room and he was seated in front of the pack like a prize ribbon next to Peter.

They had just reached the stairway when a loud series of howls erupted from the base of the stairs.  Stiles jumped back from the sound, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

Before Stiles could react, Peter was pushing him back toward the bedroom.  The wolf all but shoved him back into the bedroom, reaching for the door to pull it closed behind him.  He stopped at the last minute, “Stay here.”  He said, “Don’t make a sound.”  Then Peter was gone and the door clicked shut behind him.

Stiles frowned at the sound of the lock sliding into place from the door.  He wrung his hands together as he stared at the door.  Fear closed around his heart before he could stop it, making it hard to draw breath.

Something bad must be happening.  Someone must be attacking the pack…

Stiles ran his hand through his buzzed hair, wincing as he wondered what would happen at the end of… whatever was happening downstairs.

He huffed and paced around the bed with his arms wrapped around himself.  Stiles didn’t know what would happen if the pack was actually being attacked by someone… he didn’t know what would happen if the attacker was a friend or foe…

A part of Stiles rejoiced in the thought of Peter losing the battle. 

Lying dead on the floor at the hands of some unknown savior… but he quickly beat that though down.  For all he knew, whoever may or may not be attacking Peter’s pack could be worse than Peter…

They could just kill him for being in the pack even if he isn’t…

They might not even know Stiles was trapped in that room.  They could win the battle and then leave without checking the top floor of the house and leave him locked in his prison until he starved to death.

Stiles shuddered at the thought.  There was no way to get out of this room from the inside.  The door was built too strong for his human strength.  And there was no contact with the outside, save for the television, which was useless if he wanted to get an SOS message to someone… There was no phone, no internet and no contact with anyone.

If the pack dies, he dies.

Besides… for some strange reason, he’d probably be a little upset if Addie died.  Despite her inability to take him back home, she was his only person to talk to besides Peter.

He walked to the window, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around himself.  The sky was quickly darkening, lengthening the shadows cast by the house into something monstrously large, nearly stretching to the wall across the trees.

There were no noises from the house.  Silence surrounded him… He couldn’t even hear any birds singing from the window.

Stiles huffed and ran his hands over his buzzed hair. 

He was frustrated… it seemed like all he could do was sit around and wait for something to happen.  A useless bystander in his own destiny.

Minutes that felt like hours passed in the agonizing silence.  Just as Stiles was about to scream in frustration, there was a noise outside the door.

Stiles turned with his arms still wrapped around his chest.  He stepped towards the door without thinking about it as the doorknob rattled.

He stepped back as the knob rattled again. 

It couldn’t be Addie or Peter. 

They had keys. 

Before Stiles could decide to do anything, the door burst open, the pieces of door that used to hold the lock shattered towards Stiles with a grunt from whoever stood on the outside.

There was a beat of stillness after the door slammed against the wall.  Stiles stood by the foot of the bed, staring at the man who stood in the doorway.  He was tall and grotesquely thin… like he hadn’t eaten a thing in months.  His long dark hair was matted and his clothes were covered in dirt and blood.  He couldn’t have been more than 20 years old…

But the look in his eyes was most chilling.  Golden yellow eyes marked him as a werewolf, which wasn’t really surprising for Stiles… He’d expected the attackers to be another pack… The man had his sharp fangs bared into a snarl, his golden eyes filled with white hot hatred.

Stiles stepped back from the door, breaking the stillness. 

The stranger stalked forward, “I followed the stink of that dog.” He said in a low voice that brought shivers of fear down his spine.  “I was expecting to find him here.” 

The wolf smirked and stalked forward, pointing at Stiles with the point of a sharp looking knife as he retreated backward, matching the wolf step for step.  “But I find you instead.”  He said with a sick smile. “What a gift.” 

Stiles jumped as his back hit the wall.  The movement seemed to spur the werewolf on. 

The stranger jumped forward, clearing the room quickly.  It was almost too quick for Stiles to get out of the way of the claws and knife, but somehow, Stiles managed to all but dive out of the way, landing hard on his side and lurching to his feet before the pain from the fall could fully register.

Stiles tried to run out of the door that was still wide open.  He didn’t get far though.  The stranger got to his feet much faster than Stiles had given him credit for. 

He should have known a werewolf could move faster than him.  And trying to outrun one never worked out well for him in the past.

The guy grabbed him from behind, wrapping the one strong arm that didn’t have the knife around his chest, trapping his arms at an awkward angle when he tried to get away.  The stranger didn’t seem to be bothered by Stiles’ struggling; he brought the knife forward, into Stiles’ field of vision.

Before Stiles could make a sound, the guy brought the knife down, like he was trying to cut Stiles’ throat.  He twisted in his attackers grip, raising his hands up to block the knife before it got to the skin of his throat. 

The sharp edge of the knife bit into his hands, the pain made him cry out, trying not to flinch away as the blood flowed out of the new deep cuts down his wrists.

The man growled in Stiles’ ear.  “I was looking for your alpha.”  He said, twisting the knife, trying to get it out of Stiles’ grip, wringing another cry of pain from Stiles’ lips.  “I was going to kill him and then end all of this.” The stranger pulled the knife out of Stiles’ hands, slicing the skin of Stiles’ palms and fingers.  “But killing his toy too will be icing on the cake.”

Stiles twisted in the man’s grip, slamming the heel of his foot down with more force than he knew he had.  The man nearly howled in pain as Stiles heard bones snap when their feet connected.  The arm around Stiles’ chest loosened, letting Stiles wrench himself out of the wolf’s grip.

He ran towards the open bedroom door, hoping that the stranger was slowed enough that he might actually be able to get away.  He turned as soon as he crossed the threshold, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder to inside of the bedroom. 

Before he got a good look, he slammed into a strong chest and almost fell backward until strong hands wrapped around his elbows, keeping him upright and leaving tiny scratches on his skin. 

Stiles gasped and started to pull away before his wits came back to him and he stopped fighting Peter’s grip on his arms.

Peter, Addie, and a few betas Stiles didn’t recognize stood around him, blocking the path to the stairwell.  All but Peter and Addie stared at him with wolfed out faces, sharp teeth, and electric blue eyes.

After a beat of stillness, the werewolf burst out of the bedroom, making all the wolves in the hall turn their attention to him.  The stranger turned tail and ran down the opposite end of the hall, away from the wolves faster than Stiles had ever seen a wolf run before.

Peter pushed Stiles to the side, all but slamming the boy’s back against the wall and knocking the air from his lungs when he followed after the attacker.

It was a blur when Peter caught the other wolf a few feet down the hall.  The alpha stopped the attacker with a hand tangled in that long greasy hair.  He pulled the man to the ground and dragged the wolf to the spot in front of the bedroom door where Stiles stood.

Peter dragged him back up, pressing a claw to the man’s throat to hold him to the wall.  He growled in Addie’s direction, barely talking his eyes off the man in front of him. 

Addie ran forward, grabbing the man to let Peter step back towards Stiles.  He gently touched Stiles’ hands, bringing them up to the light.

Stiles winced at the pain the movement caused, “I’m fine.”  He said as Peter examined the blood covered, cut up skin of his hands. 

Peter gave him a look, hearing the blip in his heartbeat at the lie that Stiles didn’t bother to try to hide, and said, “Can you move them?”

Frowning, Stiles tried to make a fist.  He ignored the screaming pain in his skin at the movement, he kept going until his hands shook from pain and his cut fingers met his bleeding palms. 

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, he let his hands fall open, his fingers still shaking from the effort.

Peter growled and step back, gesturing for Addie to leave the beta and come to Stiles.  She looked at him over her shoulder with disbelief for a moment before turning back to the man she was holding to the wall. 

She pulled him forward by the collar of his shirt for a split second before slamming him back against the wall with enough force to dent the drywall.

When she stepped towards Stiles with a sunny smile, the man crumpled to the ground.  Addie carefully pulled Stiles’ hands up, her skin barely connecting with Stiles’.  She looked at him for a moment before gently pressing her fingertips to the backs of Stiles’ hands and took some of the pain.  When the tingling had faded, she locked eyes with Stiles.

There was a moment of stillness.  The growls of the pack faded into silence as a little voice spoke up from his mind.

_Opportunity knocks._

Peter moved to where Addie left, dragging the guy up from the floor by his crumpled collar.  “What’s your name?”  Peter said with a dark voice that sent shivers down Stiles’ spine.

The man struggled against the alpha’s grip, but it didn’t make a difference.  “Jack.”  He said in a frustrated voice, flashing his golden eyes at the alpha as some kind of display of pathetic dominance.

Peter threw a smirk at Addie over his shoulder.  “Well, Jack.”  He said, tightening his grip on the wolf, raising his body a few inches off the ground.  “You should have run when you had the chance.”

Addie tapped the back of Stiles’ hands, bringing attention back to her.  She leaned closer to him, “Don’t look away.”  She breathed into his ear, leaning away before Stiles could question her.

He turned back to where Peter held Jack against the wall with claws that appeared when Stiles turned away.  “I suppose you’d end up the same way no matter what you chose.  Dead in the ground.”  Peter laughed, the sound harsh and angry.  “But your kind never do take the gift well.”

Before Stiles could question that, Peter dug a clawed hand into Jack’s throat.  His claws squishing into the soft skin on either side of the wolf’s throat. 

Jack made a strange gurgling sound… like he was trying to scream but couldn’t get the sound out.

Stiles watched, detached, as the claws in Jacks throat pulled forward, bringing the throat out with a sickening squelch that made Stiles’ stomach churn. 

He didn’t turn away when the shiny glob of flesh, wet with blood was pulled out of Jack’s body. 

Peter stepped back, let the body fall to the floor where blood was quickly pooling around Peter’s feet, and dropped the fistful of flesh to the ground at his feet.

Stiles didn’t once look away.

* * *

His hands ached, but he didn’t care. 

The quiet whir of the shower from the bathroom was the only sound in the room as Addie carefully spread more sweet smelling oil on the cuts on his skin and silently wrapped his palms with fresh clean white gauze.

He knew what this was.  

This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.  He knew it would come. 

He knew it would. 

But he wasn’t ready for it.

How does someone even prepare for something like this?  What is he supposed to do?   His mind felt fuzzy and his body felt too heavy and too light at the same time… It was a strange feeling.

It’s like he’s planning his own execution and it made his head swim with the fear he felt in his blood.  It nearly made him sick to his stomach.  But he pushed the feeling away until it was barely a quiver at the back of his mind.

He couldn’t afford to think about what he had to do too much.  If he over-thought this, he’d have a panic attack and ruin everything he’d been setting up since that first week…

Addie stood, pulling him from his thoughts.  She smiled down at him from in front of the bed as Peter walked out of the bathroom, completely dressed with damp hair and clean skin. 

The alpha nodded at her and she gently rested a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before carefully picking his empty wine glass off the table and walking out of the bedroom without a word.

Stiles sat still at the edge of the bed, looking at the ground with his heart beating loudly in his ears.  He didn’t bother to hide his heartbeat from Peter.  It would only help. 

He felt strange. 

Too afraid to breathe, but somehow peaceful. 

The wind howled against the window, snowflakes smacking against the glass, the screams and bangs a perfect soundtrack for what Stiles knew needed done now.

The bed dipped beside him when Peter sat down.  The wolf took his wrist between his fingers to examine the bandage Addie put on him.  “You’re afraid.”  Peter said, more of a statement than a question.

Stiles nodded without looking up.  He let the wolf hold his thin wrist between his fingertips.

“You don’t need to be.”  Peter said, obviously trying to be a little reassuring for Stiles’ sake.  “The wolves are dead.”

Stiles nodded again, still staring at the floor near his still bare feet, unable to say a word through the knot in his throat. 

There was no moon that night. 

It was only a few nights past the new moon and the darkness in the room was almost thick enough to trap him, suffocate him a wall of darkness and end all this before it got too far.

Peter released his hand.

Before Stiles could think too much, he turned to face Peter.  He lurched forward, pulling his leg up to kneel next to Peter and wrap his arms around the wolf’s neck.  Without giving himself time to stop, he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips to Peter’s.

Stiles didn’t really know what he was doing, so the kiss was sloppy and hard, full of teeth and only lasted a moment before Peter put his hand on Stiles’ hip and guided him backwards to lie on his back on the bed with Peter’s hips between his legs.

His face felt warm as blood flooded his cheeks.  A single tear fell from his tightly closed eye and fell down the side of his face to the pillow underneath him as he opened his lips for Peter, letting the wolf lick into his mouth. 

As much as kissing Peter made him sick to his stomach, his body reacted different. 

When Peter rolled his hips against Stiles’, a little tingle of pleasure shot up Stiles’ spine and brought a low moan from his lips and a wave of nausea rolled through him.

He kept his eyes closed, and blocked out the image and sounds of Peter’s pleasure and the nausea that worked its way through his body, and focused on his own pleasure, pretending it was someone else… _anyone_ else.

It seemed to work well enough… The nausea faded and all Stiles felt was warm.  The wine Addie had given him made it easier.  The alcohol made his head warm and fuzzy and made it easier to pretend everything was fine.

Peter pulled the shirt over Stiles’ head, the cool night air making the boy’s skin pebble with goosebumps.  The wolf leaned back to kiss Stiles again as he pulled his pants and underwear down with one quick movement.

Just as quickly, Peter broke the kiss and grabbed Stiles’ hip with a painful grip and flipped him so he was on his stomach, his face buried in the pillows and his dick trapped between his body and the mattress, giving him just enough friction to keep him hard. 

Frankly, Stiles was thankful for that.  He didn’t think he could stomach being face to face with Peter when he-

There was a small click behind him.  Stiles knew that click… he’d done this to himself enough times before Peter took him. 

Still, his breath hitched in his throat when he felt the palm caress his ass, spreading him apart before quickly pressing a thick, warm finger into him.

Stiles let out a shaky moan as the finger pushed into him, going deeper inside than he could on his own.   

When he first planned all this, he had intended to do this part himself… The thought of going to the bathroom and using his own fingers brought less sickness to his stomach than the reality of the situation.

Besides, he couldn’t trust Peter not to lose control and hurt Stiles in one way or another.

More tears fell from his closed eyes; he didn’t bother to try to hide them as they dripped to the pillow. 

Peter wouldn’t see them anyway.

A second finger was added.  Stiles hissed at the burn, the stretch was too much too soon.  The fingers were scissored apart, Stiles’ hands fisted into the pillow around him and he buried his face in the soft fabric. 

Soon enough, his body adjusted… the pain turning to a sick kind of pleasure.

He stopped focusing on how many fingers were inside of him, and just focused on counting each inhale of air into his lungs, he counted them like seconds on a clock. 

_One…_

_Two…_

_Three…_  

Sometimes, his breaths were hitched, when the fingers inside him hit some bundle of nerves that felt like lightning going up his spine.

He didn’t get very far along, barely past ten, before the fingers disappeared from inside him.  A loud ripping noise made Stiles jump, but he didn’t look up. 

There was a strange slick sound that Stiles didn’t place before hands grabbed his hips again and pulled him up to his knees, leaving his shoulders on the bed and his ass in the air.

The boy gasped when the man went to his knees behind him.  The only places their skin touched were Peter’s painfully tight grip on his hip, and the head of the cock pushing inside of him-

He wondered what he must look like like this… ass in the air, simultaneously aroused and sick by the man behind him, exhaling shaky moans of pleasure and pain into the pillow when he was in as far as he could be, their hips connected-

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the pain to fade. 

With a grip on his hip too tight to move, and a few thrusts from the man behind him, a hand wrapped around his neglected cock and began tugging in time with the thrusts.

Stiles’ silent tears mixed with the sweat on the pillow when he finally came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild violence, Non-con/Dub-con.
> 
> Ok so we’ve had the first time jump in the story. We skipped a grand total of 16 days. It is now Tuesday, December 20, 2011, day 24 (If you count chapter one as Day 0). (Just if you’re curious, I have the dates of each of the chapters. For continuity, you understand, so if you want to know what the dates are for the chapters, just ask, I have them :])
> 
> Now we’re going to pretend that it’s not after midnight, and call it Wednesday. Deal? I’m hoping to have the next chapter up in two weeks, but there may be major events that would hinder that process… So I’ll try, but there’s no guarantee.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/21/14

When Stiles opened his eyes, he’s confused for a moment.

His face was half buried into the soft pillow with his mouth hanging open.  He stared at the pale green wall across the room before he remembered what happened the night before. 

A wave of sadness crashed over him and, for a moment, all he wanted was for the sadness to crush him until the air was pushed from his lungs and he died in that bed.

He pushed that thought away.  If he let the sadness consume him, the night would have been a waste.  If he wanted to give up, he would have just let his body give up weeks ago and save himself the hurt.

Stiles couldn’t give up now.  He needed to get back home and make sure everyone was ok…

At that moment, Stiles wasn’t living for himself.   If he didn’t have people he needed to go back to, he wouldn’t have bothered with all of this and he would have died the first time Peter touched his skin.

Stiles shifted, starting to stretch his stiff muscles, and groaned.  He hadn’t realized how much his body hurt.  He could tell there were bruises all over his skin, and it might be a little difficult for him to sit down for lunch…

He ignored it and pushed himself up, closed his mouth, and brought his aching arm up to wipe away the saliva that had collected around his lips with the bandages that still covered his hands. 

Nausea flooded through him at the feeling on his skin… he was covered in sweat and come and it made his skin crawl.

The boy turned on his side, breathing deeply through the sick feeling in his stomach.  His naked body rubbed against the sheets and it made him feel even sicker.  He wanted to wash it all off his skin.

He sat up, stretching his arms out in front of him, feeling the cracks in his shoulders from lying in the same position all night.  He stopped moving, feeling an odd sensation from his ass.   Stiles shifted, not understanding what he felt.

When he shifted again, his jaw fell slack as he realized what it was… he stood, the nausea becoming too much to bear.  As he all but ran to the bathroom, he felt the wetness on his ass from the come that must have leaked out of him sometime in the night after Peter pulled out of him, kept warm and wet from the heat of his body.

He left the bathroom door hanging open when it banged on the wall after Stiles threw it open.   His naked skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold tile floor, but he didn’t care.  The porcelain was cool under his fingers as he gripped the toilet, he breathed deeply through the waves of nausea that made his body heave and tighten up every few breaths.

The air made his skin cold and slimy, sticky from come and sweat, and the spot on his hip held his weight on the floor ached so much he knew he must be bruised there.

He couldn’t stop the thought process as he thought about how those bruises got there.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the aches all over his body and how he felt so _open_ and _used_ and _dirty_ and he remembered how much it hurt-

The nausea became too much to fight off and he heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet. 

With tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes he rested his sweaty forehead on the back of his hand.  His throat burned as he sucked in huge lungfuls of air, trying to calm his racing heart and stop the tears.

Stiles flinched as a soft blanket was draped across his bare shoulders.  He lifted his heavy head to see Addie kneeling beside him with a simple black dress covering most of her skin and a sad look on her face. 

He boy shifted, tightening the blankets around his shoulders.  He didn’t realize he was shivering until the warmth from the blanket was wrapped around his naked body.

Addie held a white cloth in her fist, her knuckles matching the fabric.  Very slowly, like she was waiting for him to pull away, she brought the cloth to gently swipe the sweat away from his forehead with cool fabric.  She carefully draped the wet cloth across the back of his neck, the fabric cooling his too hot skin.

She pulled a cup and the bottle of wine from behind her back.   She filled the glass with dark wine and sat it in front of him.  “You did well.”

Stiles said nothing as he reached for the glass, making sure his nakedness was hidden from her view.  He quickly drained the glass, letting his eyes fall shut as the cool liquid soothed his throat.  His hand with the now empty glass fell to rest against his blanket covered leg.

After a few moments of silence, the wine made the aches fade into a dull sort of throb and the nausea that remained faded into a strange emptiness. 

She picked his hand up off his leg, turning it over to study the bandage that Stiles completely forgot about.  Without saying a word, she unraveled the cloth, peeling it away from his skin, and threw it in the bin beside the toilet.  The oil was slimy on his palms, but the deep cut that had been there the night before had turned into an angry red line across the width of his palm.

“How am I healing quickly?”  Stiles asked, watching her turn his hand around to study the mark.

The woman smiled, “Relax.”  She said, “You will learn everything you need to learn when your time comes.”  She was silent for a moment as she stared at his hands.

“This cut was quite a bit deeper than the rope burns,” she said, running her fingertips along the scar, “it will go away in a day or so.”  Addie carefully took the glass off the floor and refilled it.  She sat the glass on the counter behind Stiles. “Take a shower, sweetie.  Then we can go take a walk outside.”  She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “How does that sound?”

Stiles nodded and gave the woman a half hearted smile.  He pushed himself up, pulled the wet cloth off the back of his neck and tightened his grip on the blanket around his shoulders when the dampness on the back of his neck made him shiver. 

The woman stood with him and rested her hand on Stiles’ shoulder for a moment and gave him a reassuring squeeze before turning and walking out the door, closing it behind her.

Stiles stood still for a few moments, staring at the floor where the dark red blanket pooled at his feet.  Very slowly, he let the blanket fall to the floor, pooling around his legs. 

He didn’t look up as he moved in front of the mirror.  Staring at the sink as he leaned his scared palms on the cool countertop, he steeled himself for what he might see in the mirror when he looked at the damage the night before had given him.

When he looked up, his skin was pale, covered in white flecks of dried come on his stomach, tiny cuts around his hips, bruises, and splotches of red blush on his cheeks from the wine.  He looked closely at the cuts and bruises around his hips and gently touched the light bruises around the skin of his neck with his fingertips, wondering how they got there…

It almost looked like Peter put a hand around his neck while he was-

It was strange.  He couldn’t remember that happening the night before.

His fingertips that rested lightly against his collar bone started to shake in the reflection in the mirror.  Stiles slowly lowered his hand to watch the fingertips tremble more violently with a detached sort of feeling under his skin as the tremors traveled up his arms and his whole body shook.

Stiles stood in front of the bathroom mirror, allowing the shaking to roll through his body like waves, almost shaking the last few drops of his composure away to let him fall to the floor and break apart into nothing. 

With a deep breath, he carefully picked the glass of Addie’s wine off the counter and drained it as quickly as he could without spilling it all over himself.

The wine’s coolness spread through his chest, slowing his heart and soothing the shakes until his hands were steady on the glass that was still raised to his lips.  He stood still for a moment, just breathing in the warm scent of the sweet wine in the glass before he opened his eyes.

Before Stiles could set the glass down, a little fleck of something inside it caught his eye.  His brow crinkled in confusion as he carefully reached his finger into the glass to catch the few tiny flecks stuck to the side of the glass.  He held it up to the light.  It was so tiny, he was surprised he saw them at all. 

He stared at it for a moment, a strange pressure forming behind his forehead… like there was something he was supposed to know, and it was right on the other side of the veil of memory.

A tap on the closed door made him jump.  “Stiles.”  Addie said quietly, “Are you alright?” 

Stiles looked from the fleck of dust on his finger to the door and back again, confused at why his heart was beating so fast.  “Yeah.”  He shrugged and shook his head, wiping the fleck of what was probably just dust away on the blanket around his shoulders.  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” she said, “I will be right out here if you need me.”  Then she was gone.

Stiles shook his head, already feeling the almost pleasant buzz in his head from the wine.  His skin didn’t ache nearly as much as it had when he woke up, and the shaking had passed.

Honestly, he didn’t know what he was supposed to feel like at that moment.  Sad?  Angry?  Disgusted, maybe.

But he didn’t feel any of that.  Now that the nausea had faded and the wine soothed his sore muscles, he felt nothing.  No pain, no sadness, nothing.

With a deep breath, he turned to the shower and turned the water on, letting it try to relax his sore muscles and wash him clean with scorching hot water.  He knew it was burning his skin, but he didn’t care.

He scrubbed his skin until it turned red under the spray. 

The itch wouldn’t stop.  The dirty feeling on his skin wouldn’t wash down the drain, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his skin. 

It felt like he was standing there for hours, scrubbing and scrubbing at his skin with no hope to get clean, before he finally gave up.  Stiles turned off the water and let the water drip off him for a moment.

He didn’t wait long before he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, leaving his damp chest bare to the cool air.

He didn’t stop to look in the mirror again as he walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door wide open behind him.  He walked through the bedroom towards the closet, but stopped beside the bed.

Addie sat leaning back in the chair beside the bed.  Her eyes seemed far away as she chewed on the skin around her thumbnail and glared in the direction of the bed.

After a second, she seemed to notice his presence and snapped up, curling her hand in her lap and smiling at him with a look that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “What are you waiting for, Stiles?”  She asked with mock enthusiasm.  “Go get dressed, I know you must want that walk.”

 Stiles only hesitated for a moment, looking at the woman for a moment before turning off towards the closet to get dressed.  He almost missed the wince that crossed Addie’s features as her eyes flicked down Stiles’ bruised skin.

“It’s snowing, Stiles.”  Addie called as he crossed the threshold into the closet.  “Dress warmly.”

He kept the towel wrapped tightly around his waist while he quickly picked clothes off the racks on the walls.  It only took him a moment to pull on his underwear and dark jeans, leaving his wet towel behind him on the floor. 

Without thinking too much, Stiles grabbed a plain black hoodie from the rack and pulled it over his head, not bothering to be surprised at the way the soft material fit his body perfectly.

When he walked out of the closet, Addie was still sitting at her chair by the bed, but this time her back was straight and there was a blank look on her face which turned to a smile as soon as Stiles walked in. 

“Do you want to go outside now, Stiles?”  Addie asked, her eye flecking down to the bruises that peeked out from the collar of his hoodie.

Stiles nodded, and Addie stood.  She walked towards him and smoothed his hoodie across his shoulders with a small smile on her face.  “Do not say anything important until we get outside.”  When Stiles nodded again, her smile grew.

Addie stepped beside Stiles and looped her arm through Stiles’ with her hand resting gently just below his elbow.  When Stiles looked at the hand on his arm, she laughed, “You ought to learn how to lead a lady, Stiles.”  She started to walk forward, “you never know when the skill might come in handy.”

Stiles shrugged it off as Addie walked through the open door.  They walked in silence down the winding steps to the ground floor, not passing a single soul on the way.

Stiles didn’t dare disrupt the quiet as they walked out towards the dining room.  It was empty, and the doors along the way were closed. 

Silence wrapped around them, interrupted by their loud footsteps on the tile floor.  Stiles was practically bouncing out of his skin as they reached the door to the garden.  The sun was blotted out with thick grey clouds and thick flecks of snow fell slowly to the ground. 

He hesitated, slowing them both to nearly a stop as he tilted his head back to look up at the falling snow.   For a moment, Stiles felt light.

The house towering above him faded into nothing as he watched the snow fall around him. 

He smiled as his breath turned to fog above him.

Addie smiled, “Come on, Stiles.”  She said, gently pulling him through the patio surrounded by snow-covered greenery to the path hidden in the thick trees that he tried to run through what felt like ages ago.  “I generally eat at the garden in the back by the wall.”  Her words held the trace of the accent that Stiles couldn’t place as she spoke.  “It is easier to pretend there.”

After a moment of walking, they approached a small clearing in the trees where a small white metal table with four chairs was surrounded by large, white, plant pots filled only with dirt and snow.  The clearing bordered the Wall that surrounded the whole property, but only a small part of the white stone, barely 2 feet wide, was showing through the trees.

The grass that should be surrounding the clearing was covered in piles of snow that one of the betas must have shoveled for them…

It all looked so clean.

There were no footprints in the snow.  No sounds in the trees…  It would be easy to hide here where the house was blocked from their view, and pretend to be completely alone.

Addie’s black, long-sleeved dress with spotted with snowflakes as she sat in the white metal chair with her back to the house hidden behind the thick, snow covered trees.  “Please sit, Stiles.”  She said, waving her hand towards the chair across from her.

Stiles blinked the snowflakes off of his eyelashes and moved to sit across the woman at the table.  He could tell the metal was cold under his hands and through his clothes, but he didn’t care.  He didn’t shiver from the snow that fell or the chill in the air.  None of it bothered him.

A girl wearing a plain white button up shirt and black pants carrying a tray in front of her quickly came from the path leading to the house.  When she approached the table, she stopped and turned her head to the side, baring her throat to Stiles.

She didn’t look up as she inched closer to the table, seeming to shrink in on herself the closer she got to Stiles’ table.  When she stopped and put the tray on the snow-dusted table, she retreated so quickly she was practically a blur.

As quickly as she came into the small meadow, she was gone again.

When Stiles turned his attention back to Addie, she was staring at him.  “You smell like him now, Stiles.”  She didn’t hesitate when Stiles flinched.  “They are as afraid of you as they are of him.”  She carefully lifted a glass off the tray and smiled at Stiles as she filled it with dark wine.  “Unless, of course, you show them different.”

She handed the glass to Stiles and leaned back in her chair.  “Eat, before everything gets soggy from the snow.”  She ordered, nudging the tray closer to Stiles.

Stiles wasn’t hungry.  The thought of eating the toast on the tray made him feel nauseous, but he picked it up anyway. 

Addie smile at him when he took small bites, “The bedroom door will not be locked again,” she said, “Unless you are being punished.”  She took a piece of toast off the stack and continued, “You will be free to wander the grounds to your heart’s content.”  She began to pull a small piece of bread apart with a smile on her face, “You can meet the pack, make friends… allies.”  She ate the toast in her fingertips.

Stiles stared at the wine in his glass as she spoke.  “How am I supposed to do that?”  He asked, leaning back and letting the falling snow relax his sore muscles as he spoke, “I may be new to this werewolf thing, but how am I supposed to get them to trust me more than their alpha?”

The woman smiled at him, “Trust me, child.”  She said, “You will know which of the betas can be trusted.”  She took another bite sized piece of toast from her piece.  “Now that Peter thinks you are his, he will not stay here every day.”

Stiles tried not to flinch at her words.  Tricking Peter was the whole point of what he did, after all.  It’s not like it was supposed to be a shock. 

He didn’t say anything as he drank the wine Addie had given him as quickly as he could.

“There are packs all over the country that Peter will visit.  He will leave to turn new betas… While he is gone, the pack is ordered to treat you as their alpha.” She said, tossing the rest of the toast into the tree line.  “There are betas who won’t like it.  Tread carefully, Stiles.  Not all of them like the thought of a human in charge.”   She scoffed at the idea.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table in front of him.  Stiles sat the glass down on the cold metal table, and ran his hands through his short, snow-covered hair, letting the snowflakes fall around his face.

“Enough of that, Stiles.”  Addie said in a harsh tone.  “Sit up straight.” 

She waited for Stiles to sit up with his back straight before continuing, “You are in a dangerous place, Stiles, you know that.  You have to at least act confident here.  If you act like a little timid animal,” she crossed her legs under her dress and leaned against the chair back, “they will tear you apart.”

Stiles was about to speak when Addie held up her hand to silence him with her head tilted to the side.  “Peter is coming, eat.”  She ordered, leaning forward to refill Stiles’ glass.

He followed her order and ate more of the toast the beta brought out for him as he watched the thick snow collect on the ground. 

After a moment, he looked up and saw Peter walking toward the table through the path in the trees with a beta Stiles didn’t recognize.  Stiles smiled and looked down like he was being shy.  Addie smirked at him before she turned in her seat and waved them over.

Stiles picked up the glass of wine from the table without looking up as Peter sat at the empty chair beside him.  “Stiles, Adrasteia,” He said in greeting.  The beta that followed Peter stood still behind him.  “I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.”  Peter said, brushing the snow off the sleeve of his dark, silky button up shirt.

Stiles tilted his head to the side and stared at the material, wondering if it would feel as good as it look under his fingertips. 

He blinked in shock and looked away from Peter, picking up the glass of wine in front of him.  He only hesitated for a moment before he brought the glass to his lips, trying to shake wherever the hell that thought came from and quickly took a deep drink from the glass.  He let his eyes slip shut as the cool wine ran down his throat, cooling his suddenly warm skin. 

“Pamela has found a new beta in Montana.”  Peter said, speaking to Addie.  “As usual, I should be gone for four or five days, you know-”

“Can I come?”  Stiles snapped, interrupting whatever Peter was saying to Addie.

Addie snapped her head to look at him with wide eyes. 

Peter was a little slower to react.  He stared at Stiles for a short moment before he answered him with a short and simple, “No.”

Stiles started to protest, but Addie interrupted him, “Stiles, I think it’s time we go back inside.”  She smiled him, “Maybe you can have a nap.”

She stood, starting to approach Stiles to pull him to his feet.  Before he could protest, a yawn interrupted whatever he was going to say.  She smiled again, “There, see?  You are tired, let’s go.” 

Stiles nodded and stood, his head suddenly fuzzy as Addie led him away.  They didn’t say anything as they walked up the stairs, but he could feel Addie fuming beside him.

When they finished climbing the seemingly endless stairs to the bedroom, Addie pushed open the door and let go of Stiles.  She turned away from him and sighed, “Why did you do that, Stiles?”

He didn’t need to ask what she meant, “I don’t know.”  He answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at the floor.  Something was telling him that he had to go… He didn’t know why, but he needed to go.

Addie turned, looking at him with her hands on her hips.  She stared at him for a moment before she sighed again, “Fine.”  She said, dropping her hands, “But I’m not getting into it.  If you want to go so bad, convince him yourself.”  She sat on the chair beside him, grabbed the remote, and flipped through the channels.

Stiles sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the palms of his hands.  He traced the deep red cut marks on his hands with his fingertips. 

They sat like that for a few moments until he heard footsteps outside the door. 

He didn’t look up when he heard the door open and Peter walk in.  Addie stood and said something to Peter that was too quiet for him to understand.  Then she left without a word to Stiles.

He was still tracing the marks on his hands when he felt the bed dip beside him.  “I should have a gun.” Stiles said without really thinking about what he was saying.  He took a deep breath to control his heartbeat… it was important that Stiles wouldn’t show how much he really wanted that gun.

Peter said nothing for a moment.  Stiles felt Peter’s eyes on his face, so he shifted, letting his head fall to the side and his shoulder pushed back, showing more of his neck to Peter.  “You don’t need a gun, Stiles.”  He said, raising a hand to trace a fingertip down the length of Stiles’ neck.  “I will protect you.”

Stiles sighed and shifted away, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “I know you can protect us.  But I want to protect myself so that this,” He held his hand out, scarred palms up, for Peter to see, “Won’t happen again.”

He tried not to seem too eager.  It would be so easy to kill Peter with a gun.  If he was able to have a gun, he’d get wolfsbane bullets, because without them, the gun would be basically useless-

“No, Stiles.”  Peter said, gently touching the back of Stiles’ hands while he studied the cuts on his hands, “You might hurt yourself.”

Stiles scoffed, pulling his hands away from Peter’s feather light touches.  He looked down so his chin rested against his chest and hid most of his neck from Peter.  “I’m not a child, I know how to use a gun.”  Stiles said, “Gideon got me that gun as a present, why can’t I use that?”  Stiles asked, looking back up at Peter, waiting for an answer.

Peter’s jaw clenched.  He was nearing that line that Stiles didn’t want to cross, so he needed to back off.  “Gideon should never have gotten that for you, and my answer won’t change.” 

Stiles huffed and turned his body away from Peter.  He knows he smells upset, but that’s ok… Peter should know that he’s upset.  He just has to wait for a moment until Peter takes the bait…

“I’ll have Gideon teach you how to protect yourself,” Stiles couldn’t hide his small smile as he turned back so his legs dangled off the side of the bed, he tried to say something but Peter kept talking, “with _out_ a gun.”  Stiles pouted without looking at Peter, “Then we’ll see what you can do.”

Stiles sighs but let his head fall to the side anyway to show Peter his neck.  It was too soon to get a gun now.  He would just need to wait a little longer.

“What about taking me with you?”  he asked, resting his hands back on his thighs.

“I said no, Stiles.”

“But this is my family now, right?”  Stiles asked, running his hands over his hair, “Isn’t that what you said?”  he sighed and looked at the ground, “Don’t I get any say in who is in my family?”

He sat in silence, waiting for Peter to answer.  When Stiles didn’t get an answer, he looked up at Peter who was staring at him with what was too close to suspicion.

“You’re still treating me like you don’t trust me.”  He said sadly, tipping his head to the side like the thought upset him, exposing the long line of his neck to the wolf beside him.  He sighed, letting his body relax, allowing his hand rest on the man’s knee.  He looked up to Peter with wide, sad eyes.  He whispered, “Please let me go.”

He didn’t break eye contact until Peter sighed, “Fine.”  Stiles smiled as honestly as he could and closed his eyes, letting Peter win that little show of dominance.  “We leave in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry for this being so late… but it was really hard to write and I have no idea why. 
> 
> But on the plus side, my beta told me she only had to add the word “In” to the chapter and that was her only change. So thanks to gingerqueen-lydiascream on Tumblr for betaing after I finished this chapter at 6 am.
> 
> Next chapter we are off to Montana to meet a girl :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/4/14

When Stiles woke up that morning, Addie was already there, sitting in the chair by the bed with her long black hair flowing around her shoulders.  She smiled when she saw that he was awake, “How did you sleep?”

Stiles shrugged and sat up, stretching his arms over his head.  He slept soundly that night.  Peter hadn’t touched him below the belt for the first time since he was taken.  He just slept dreamlessly against Peter’s chest.

He scrubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand and stood, not bothering to talk to Addie as he went to the bathroom to shower.

After Stiles left the bathroom, he went through the motions of getting dressed in comfortable jeans and a soft, dark hoodie, glad that the bruises on his neck and hips had already faded into yellowed shadows on his skin.

When he went back into the bedroom, Addie led him outside to the table by the Wall surrounding the property in silence.  She must have sensed that Stiles didn’t feel particularly chatty.

The snow fell steadily to the ground again, but the path to the patio was clear, the snow was shoveled into piles that almost reached Stiles’ waist.  He didn’t know where exactly he was, but he figured he had to be somewhere further north than home… Northern California did get snow, but not usually this much. 

The snow that wasn’t shoveled into piles easily reached Stiles’ knees.

The girl from the day before was there with her black hair tied back into a ponytail, waiting for them when they broke through the clearing in the trees.  She glanced up at Addie as she brushed the snow off the chairs and the silver globe that must have covered the serving tray.

When she turned her glance to Stiles, she froze.  She stood up straight and turned her head to the side, the tendon of her neck jutting out of her skin above the collar of her dark blue shirt. 

Her whole posture screamed fear as she slowly edged away from the table towards the treeline at the opposite end of the small clearing.

Stiles looked at Addie who carefully pulled her hand away from Stiles’ arm and sat down, not giving the frightened girl a passing glance.  He stared at the girl still edging away from Stiles.  “What’s your name?”  Stiles asked, taking a small step towards the girl.

She jumped back, flinching again when her back hit a tree, turning her head so far to the side he knew it must hurt her.  Stiles stopped, holding his hands up with his palms towards her, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”  He said, “I just want to know your name.”

“Samantha.”  She said quickly, not looking at him.

Stiles looked at her a little closer, realizing that he saw her somewhere before.  “Addie called you something else-”

“No!” Her eyes widened as he spoke. “Well, I mean yes, but-” she put her face in her hands and turned away, “She calls me Sammy…” 

Addie had turned in her chair to look at them as they spoke.  “It was what she was called before she came here.”

Stiles nodded and said, “Thank you for the food, Sammy.”  He smiled when she hesitantly glanced at him.

When she saw his small smile, she beamed, forgetting that she had her neck bowed in submission as she looked from Addie to Stiles and back again.  With a small bow to them both, she ran from the clearing.

Stiles shook his head and sat down across from Addie.

“Very good, Stiles.”  The woman said with a smile, the dark red sleeve of her dress brushing against the table top as she lifted the cover off the silver tray.  “She will go tell the rest of the betas about what just happened.”  She poured Stiles wine and handed him the glass with a soft smile on her lips.  “She will help tell the others that you are not someone to be feared.”

Stiles said nothing as he watched the wine spin around in the glass.  He didn’t look up as he heard her take a piece of toast off the stack.

Distantly, he wondered if he would ever really be hungry again… The thought of food made him want to be sick, but he grabbed a piece of toast anyway.    

Maybe his appetite would come back after he got back home.

As he ate and drank, Addie spoke to him, “I do not know why you want to go with Peter today,” she said, leaning back against her chair as the snow fell around them. “But I suppose there is nothing I can do about it now.  You ought to know how the next few days will go.” 

He still didn’t look up at her or say anything as he drank the rest of the wine, feeling nothing.  “Normally, Peter would be going to the new beta alone the night before the full moon.”  She said, “He would meet Pamela there and she would show him the girl.” 

Her voice was soft as she spoke, like she was afraid of scaring Stiles away if she spoke normally.  “After he saw her, he would wait for the full moon to bite them.”  She sighed, “The pull of the moon paired with their inability to control themselves….  Whatever their alpha says will be nearly impossible to resist.”

“But Scott didn’t do what he was told.”  Stiles pointed out, looking up from the empty glass in his hands.

Addie smiled, “Scott is special.”  She said simply.  “You were both in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He couldn’t say anything past the guilt that rose up in his throat.  Her words reminded him that the only reason Scott was a werewolf and he was trapped in this prison was because he wanted to find a dead body that night.

Addie poured him more wine, “After the beta is bitten, they either live or die.”  She sat the bottle on the table in front of her, “If their body rejects the bite, you will know it very quickly.  But I have heard about this girl, I believe she is strong enough.”

Something about that made a strange feeling that Stiles didn’t understand flood through him for a moment before it vanished again.  “If the beta survives,” Addie said, “Peter will take them to their house and they will kill together.”  Her voice was somber, “They will destroy their former pack to be forced into this one.” 

“But, if all goes as planned,” she said after a moment of silence, “You will be in the hotel room so you don’t see what comes next.”

Stiles didn’t say anything as he ate the toast without tasting it.  Something in her tone made him not want to know what came next.

They sat in silence as the snow fell and Stiles thought about what she told him.  Briefly, he wondered what would have happened if Peter hadn’t decided to take Stiles and leave Scott alone.  His best friend had told him that he wanted to kill his friends when he was under the alpha’s influence and it wasn’t even the full moon then…

He shook the thoughts away and quickly drank the wine in his glass. His heart ached with how much he missed his family, but he couldn’t think about them now.

“Are you alright, Stiles?”  Addie asked, looking up from the small pile of snow that fell quickly into her open palm.  “You smell sad.”

He stared at her for a moment before he said, “I’m fine.”

“You were thinking about your family.”  She said, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded in her lap and a blank expression on her face.

Stiles nodded once without saying anything else.  He swallowed and changed the subject, “So is that how he gets all the betas?”  

Addie barely blinked at the sudden change in conversation.  “Yes, most of them.”  She said after a beat of silence, “Some are gifts, some are trophies.  But most are bitten.”

“Is that how you got into the pack?”  He asked.

The woman smiled.  “Someday I will tell you my story, Child.” she said, “But not today.”

Stiles nodded and ate in silence.  When the stack of toast was gone, Addie stood.  “We have to go pack, Stiles.  We have to leave soon.”

They walked to the bedroom in silence.

Addie handed him a plain black bag when they crossed the doorway of the bedroom.  “Gather enough clothes to last a week.”  She walked to the bookshelf along the wall, pulling the laptop off the shelf.

He gathered clothes and stuffed them into the bag roughly, tossing it onto the bed as Addie hummed her tune under her breath and flipped through channels.

When she turned and saw the bag on the bed, she picked it up and walked out into the hallway, leaving the door open.   He didn’t bother to listen to what she said when she called Sammy from the hall.

“You know,” Addie said, walking back into the room and all but throwing herself on her chair beside the bed.  “I really hope you did not ask to go with Peter because you want to stop anything.”

Stiles stared out the window with his shoulder leaning against the frame.  He didn’t say anything.

“Because, if you try,” she continued, “Peter will punish you and he will turn the girl anyway.”

He only nodded. 

He knew that. 

A light tap on the open door made him turn.  Sammy stood with her throat bared to Stiles, just like before, only the tendon didn’t jut out from her shirt collar.  “He is ready to leave now.  He is waiting downstairs.”  She said, not looking up as she spoke.

Addie stood and turned the television off.  Stiles moved around the bed and walked beside her.  “I only care about my pack, Addie.”  He said distantly, letting her wrap her arm around his.  “Why would I try to stop this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How does it feel to have an on time update? I think it feels pretty good.
> 
> Special thanks to my Beta: Gingerqueen-Lydiascream. She's wonderful, you should go follow her if you have a tumblr.
> 
> Please give me feedback on how you think the story is going so far, I love to talk to you guys :) Don't forget, I have anon on on my Tumblr, so you can anon message if you want :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/18/14

The car was in a large garage separated from the rest of the house.  One of the four garage doors was open when Addie led them along the snow covered sidewalk.

Peter was already there, standing by the car talking to Pamela in a hushed voice.  The glare that seemed to be Pamela’s permanent expression lingered on Stiles before she turned and walked around the car to walk to the front driver’s side.

Stiles quickly glanced at Addie before she pulled her arm away to walk to the passenger side door, her dark red skirt brushing against Peter’s legs as she climbed into the car’s front seat.  He barely hesitated when she left him; he walked to Peter’s side, smiling when Peter opened the door for him.

Before Stiles could slip past Peter, the man put his hand on his neck with his thumb lightly resting against the veins of the boy’s neck. 

He only let himself freeze for a moment before he forced his muscles to relax under the wolf’s grip.  Stiles slowly looked up from the soft black material of the back seats to look into Peter’s eyes.

Peter was watching the jump of his pulse against his skin; his eyes were dark as his thumb traced the outline of the bruise the wolf left on his neck.  Stiles didn’t move when Peter locked eyes with him. 

After a second, Peter pushed Stiles into the car with just enough force to make Stiles stumble a little.  He caught himself against the roof of the car before he could seriously injure himself and followed Peter’s guiding hands before he was pushed again.

Stiles had barely gotten his legs in the car before the door was shut and Peter opened the door on the other side of the car.  He could still feel the heat from the wolf’s hand on his neck when Peter slipped into the car and told Pamela that they were ready to leave.

Pamela started the car and pulled away from the house, driving forward into the snow as Peter put his hand on Stiles’ knee.  He turned his gaze from the window to Peter’s hand on his leg, lingering for a moment before he smiled softly and look up at Peter through his eyelashes with his head still bowed.

He looked away and stretched his neck out to watch the car drive to the gates.

Stiles hadn’t seen the gates since he’d run to them the morning when Peter tied him up.  And even then it was only from a distance… They were bigger than Stiles thought.  The towers on either side of the gate stood tall over the surrounding wall with betas standing at the top, and the metal bars of the gate stretched so wide two 18 wheelers could have easily driven side by side. 

Pamela stopped a few feet back as one of the gates slid open.  Once it was completely open against the wall, she drove out to the road that led away from the house.  Stiles twisted to watch the gate close behind them.

The road that led to the highway from the House was a long stretch of dark pavement dusted with snow.   There were no street signs, no traffic lights… There wasn’t even a single light post along the twisty road. 

The grass leading to the treeline shrunk until the road bordered the trees.  Pamela didn’t even stop as she turned sharply onto the empty highway.  The road they had come from was completely hidden in the trees, no sign or indication that it existed.  If he hadn’t known it was there, he would never find it.

It felt like they’d been driving for hours, Stiles watched the snow covered trees fly by from the back seat.  He’d tried to stay awake as long as he could, fighting the heaviness of his eyelids, watching the signs that littered the highway for any hint of where they were, but the car lulled him to sleep before he could stop it.

* * *

The glass was cold under his skin when Peter shook his shoulder to wake him up.  Stiles blinked the blur from his eyes and looked around, lifting his head from the window.

Snow fell quickly around the car, and frigidly cold air flooded in through the open front door.  Pamela and Addie closed their car doors and began slowly walking to the front of the car, waiting for Peter and Stiles. 

As soon as Stiles sat up, Peter was getting out of the car and walking around the back.  Stiles barely had a chance to glance at the tall sign with what looked like an eagle over “The Thunderbird Motel” written in black letters on a peeling red background before Peter was there, opening his door and gesturing for Stiles to get out of the car.

The tan building was two stories tall with old fading black metal stairs that looked too rickety to be safe and metal railings lining the path to the upper rooms… Addie came to his side as Peter led them into the corner door labeled “office” in peeling letters.

Peter held the door open for them to walk through. 

The office consisted of a large room that must have doubled as a bar, judging by the dozens of bottles along the wall behind the counter that was lined with bar stools along the back wall and part of another. 

A man with graying hair stood behind the bar talking to another man with a dark baseball cap over short white hair, each of them holding a glass of amber liquid.  They looked up when the bell above the door rang.

The man behind the counter stood up and smiled at them, waving a hand in the direction of the cash register at the corner of the bar.  Peter motioned for Stiles to stay near the door, and walked toward the man with Pamela at his side. 

Addie stayed by his side and pulled him over to the corner of the bar where a small stack of magazines sat.  “Peter is buying us a room.”  She whispered, “He said that we are all a family staying for a night so we can head up to Canada in the morning.”  She picked a magazine off the stack and flipped through the pages as Stiles leaned against the wall, watching the wolf play loving father.

The man with the cap at the bar cast a look over his shoulder at Peter then at Stiles and stood, pushing himself away from the bar to walk over to the stool nearest to Addie and Stiles. 

Even if the dark blue cap hadn’t had the gold stitched badge and the words “Madison Police” in white letters surrounding it, Stiles would have known the man was a cop.  The way he walked, standing tall to make himself bigger and more imposing to intimidate while moving around the gun holstered to their hip, showed what he was.

Stiles looked away as the man sat down and took a magazine as Addie smiled politely at him before returning to her magazine.  His kidnapping case might be cold, but a cop would recognize him, so he kept his head down. 

The man and his magazine turned on the stool so he faced Stiles.  “Enjoying Montana, kid?”  He asked conversationally.  Stiles had heard that tone more times than he could count when his dad was fishing for information.

“It’s fine.”  Stiles said quickly, not looking toward the man who was staring at him.

“Hmm.”  The cop said, flipping a page of the magazine in his hands, “Where ya coming from?”

Addie spoke up, “Why are you asking these things?” she said.

The man hesitated for a moment before smiling.  “Just being conversational.”

Addie closed the magazine.  “Well,” she said, her strange accent coming out as spoke, “This is my nephew, we are from the south, and we just got our room.”  She gently sat her magazine back on the stack.  “It has gotten late, we should go.” 

The woman began to walk away as Peter held the door open, letting in cold air.  Stiles started to follow her, but stopped when he felt the man reach forward and grab his arm. Stiles froze and turned as the man spoke, “Anything you want me to know, kid?”  He said, so quiet that a human across the room wouldn’t have heard him, “Anything at all?”

Stiles jerked his arm out of the man’s grip and said, “Nothing.”  He turned and quickly walked to where Addie waited for him without turning back.

The door slammed shut as they disappeared into the cold, late afternoon air. 

He sighed and put the magazine he grabbed back on the stack, moving to the seat he was in before the boy walked in and turned his troubled gaze back to the glass in his hands. 

“Everything ok, Eddie?” the barkeep said, walking back in front of him.

“Yeah…” he said, draining the rest of his drink in one gulp.  “I’m heading home.”

He nodded as Eddie walked around to the door where he hung his coat.  He nodded to his friend and walked out into the snow, frowning at the sudden thick fall of snow.  The weather report had said that it would snow, but not nearly this much at once…

Eddie couldn’t see the “family” anywhere… They must have already gotten to their room already.

Maybe he was wrong… the kid could actually be that woman’s nephew up from the south… but he saw the look in the boy’s eyes and the faded bruises on his neck… he couldn’t react too hastily if the kidnapper was dangerous.

But he had to be sure.  He needed to see if that boy was the missing kid from California from the poster he’d gotten from the station.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/4/14

Their room was furthest away from the office that Peter could have gotten.  They walked up the rickety stairs and down the hall past the row of doors with faded gold numbers.

Two full sized beds stood side by side with tan comforters with two pillows on each bed.  The walls were cream and spotted with smoke stains and cheap looking paintings, a bathroom door was open on the far wall, and the only window beside the door was covered with tan curtains pulled to the sides to show the quickly falling snow.

Peter grabbed his elbow and pulled him further into the room, letting him go when Stiles stood in the center, near the foot of the bed.  He turned to Addie, “What was that?” he asked, his voice low.  “Is he someone we should worry about?”

Addie smiled, “He is a non-issue.” She said, and turned her smile to Stiles, “Stiles handled it perfectly.”

Peter nodded and turned to Stiles.  “Stay here, I’ll be back by morning.”  When Stiles nodded, Peter turned and quickly walked out the open door with Pamela following after him.

When Addie closed the door after them, Stiles sat on the edge of the bed.  He sighed and rolled the stiffness from his shoulders as Addie sat at the small table by the window.  He watched as she leaned back and stretched her arms over her head, her plain black shoes peeking out under the hem of her dress. 

“That cop recognized me.”  He said.

She nodded, “He did.”  He arms fell back to her lap.  “He obviously did not believe that you were my nephew up from the south.”

“Well your accent probably didn’t help.”  Stiles said, rubbing his hand across his face so soothe the sudden strange feeling under his skin.

Addie smiled widely at him, “I suppose so.”  She crossed her legs on the chair and said, “But the clerk believed what Peter told him.”  Before Stiles could ask what Peter had told him, Addie spoke again, “Pamela is his wife, I am his sister, and you are his child.”  She rolled her eyes, “All nonsense, but it works.”

Stiles nodded and looked around the room, toeing off his snow-damp shoes and kicking them towards the door, fighting the smile at the look Addie shot him.

After a moment of silence, Stiles decided to ask questions that he hadn’t bothered to ask before.  “So where are you from?”  He asked, filling the silence in the motel room.

Addie looked up at him with a blank expression for a beat before she said, “I was born in Greece.” 

He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t.  It seemed like she was telling as little as possible while answering his questions.  “Were you a werewolf?”  He asked quickly.

She nodded with a small smile.

Stiles folded his legs underneath him and leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs.  “When did you come here?”

Her small smile faded into a small frown.  “I came to America when I was five years old to learn with my father.”

“Learn what?  Why?  What about the rest of your family?”  Stiles asked quickly, letting the questions fly faster than she could answer them.  He stopped when she held up her hand.

“That is enough questions for the night, child.”  She looked around, looking for something.  Stiles pursed his lips, but didn’t pursue his questioning.  “I forgot my bag…”  She said to herself as she stood.  “I have to go get my bag from the car, Stiles.  Give me a moment.”  Then she opened the door, letting the freezing cold wind and snow flood into the room, before she was gone.

He sighed and rolled his neck, trying to get rid of the itchy feeling under his skin.  He looked around the room, wrinkling his nose at the smoke stains in the wallpaper.  There was a small nightstand between the two beds with an old looking gold painted lamp with a dusty shade.

Stiles’ eyes landed on the shiny black phone resting under the lamp beside the clock that read 5:45.  He froze when he saw it.  With a quick glance over his shoulder at the still closed door, Stiles pushed himself up to the head of the bed so he was sitting in front of the pillow and grabbed the phone off the nightstand, sitting it in front of him.

He grabbed the receiver off the base and let his finger hover over the buttons.

Then he stopped.

All he wanted in that moment was to call his dad.  He missed his family and it hurt his heart not knowing if they were ok, but…

What could he say?

What could he possibly say to his dad that would explain this? 

Part of Stiles wanted to tell him the truth… Tell his dad that he was taken by a werewolf. 

But that was definitely not a conversation he wanted to have over the phone.  Stiles knew his dad wouldn’t believe him…

He slammed the receiver back to the base and shoved a hand over his short hair.

If Stiles called his dad, he would try to save him. 

He knew that. 

If the sheriff tried to get him back from Peter, he would die.

He knew that too.

Stiles’ heart clenched at the thought.  He couldn’t let that happen. 

But he couldn’t waste this opportunity.  He had to call his dad… To tell him that he was alive at least…  he sucked in a breath at the thought of his dad thinking he was dead for so long…

Stiles slowly picked up the smooth plastic receiver again, his finger hovering over the button again. 

Just as he was about to press the first number, the door opened, flooding the room with cold air.  Stiles looked up at Addie as she stared at him.  She nodded as she took in what she saw, and very slowly closed the door behind her and sat her bag on the chair she was in.

She walked over to him and sat on the bed beside him.   “Think about what you are doing.”  She said quietly.  “I will not stop you, I agree with you.”  She said, looking down at the phone in Stiles’ hands.  “Call home.  But remember,” she looked up at him, “If Peter finds out, you will be punished.”

Stiles nodded, and she continued, “If your father finds us before we leave, Peter will either kill him or turn him.”  she ignored Stiles’ flinch, “he will probably leave that choice to you.” 

Stiles said nothing. 

He knew it was true. 

She stood, “And if Peter finds the police here, he will kill all of them too.”  Stiles nodded and stared at the phone, his mind racing as he tried to think of what to say…

He turned his gaze to the window where Addie sat at her chair, pouring wine into a glass.  She stood and held the glass in her hands for a moment before coming around the bed to sit the glass on the nightstand where the phone was.  “Do you want me to leave?”  She asked, gently resting her hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles nodded and bit his lip as Addie walked back around the bed and paused by the door.  “I will come back if Peter is going to be within earshot.”  She said, “Remember that Peter cannot know what you are doing.”  Then she opened the door and walked out into the snow.

Stiles turned back to the phone, the silence of the room pressing on him.  He turned back to the window to watch the snow fall thickly to the ground, almost blotting out the sun as it set behind the trees. 

After another moment of trying to figure out what to say, he lifted the phone again and slowly began to dial the number he had memorized since he was a baby.

His heart beat faster with each passing second as the phone rang.  The rings were loud in his ears, the silence stretched and felt like an eternity before the ring would sound again, sharp and clear enough to startle him into a jump.

The phone rang three times before it cut off with a strange shuffling sound.  “Stilinski.”  His dad said, his voice gruff and tired through the phone.

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat and he pitched forward, hugging his knees to his chest with the phone cradled in his hands, “Dad?” his voice came out as a shaky whisper, but his dad heard him.

After half a second of stunned silence, the sheriff said, “Stiles?” in a voice that seemed to punch all the air out of Stiles’ lungs. 

Stiles smiled as tears filled his eyes and he nodded.  “yeah.”

The sheriff was silent for half a second, and Stiles bit his lip.  “Are you ok?”  The sheriff asked quickly, “Where are you?”

Stiles blinked a tear away before it could fall and he said, “I don’t know.”  His voice wavered, “I don’t know… Somewhere in Montana.”  He looked around at the peeling wallpaper, “Someplace called the Thunderbird motel… but this isn’t where we are usually.”  He added quickly.  “I don’t know where the House is.”  He huffed at himself, “I fell asleep in the car.  But it was hours away-”

“Stiles.”  His dad said, interrupting his rushed words with his relatively calm cop-voice.  It was the same voice he always used when Stiles was panicking, “Breathe.”  Stiles did as he was told and took a sharp breath that shook in his throat.  “Do you know anything about where the house is?”  He asked around more shuffling sounds.

Stiles shook his head, “He only said not California.  It’s out of the way…” he thought back to the long driveway surrounded in the trees, “it’s hidden.”

There was half a beat of silence before his dad said, “Can you think of anything that will help me find you?  Anything?  How long did it take you to get there.”

Stiles frowned and thought back, trying to remember what happened.  “He lit the fire…” Stiles said, his voice far away as he heard Kate’s screams in his ears, “Then he drove until another car came and we drove for hours…”   he shook his head, “I woke up in the House in the morning.”

His dad was silent for another moment before he said, “Anything else?  What about the trees?  What kind of trees are there at the House?”

Stiles rubbed his thumb across the building pressure behind his forehead.  “They look like the trees from home.”  He said, glancing at the door then to the window where the snow was falling quickly, making it impossible to see the sun setting beyond the trees.  “Dad,” Stiles said, his throat suddenly tight with worry and fear, “I don’t have a lot of time.  He could be back soon.”

He heard his dad start to say something, but he continued, “I need to know if everyone is ok.”  He wrapped his hands around the phone, cradling it close to his face as he spoke quietly.  “Have you been eating right?  Is Scott ok?  And Mrs. McCall?  Lydia?”  He took a deep breath to soothe the tremble in his voice, “Please tell me you’re ok.”  His voice came out as a broken whisper, but he didn’t care.

His dad was silent on the phone for a moment before he said, “We’re all fine.”  Stiles closed his eyes at the wave of relief the words brought.  “I miss you, Stiles.”  His dad said, making tears well in Stiles’ eyes.

“I miss you too, dad.”  He said, hugging his knees to his chest, glancing at the door quickly before returning his gaze to the dusty bed.

“I need you to promise me something, Stiles.”  His dad said.  “Promise me that you’ll be safe until I can find you and bring you home.”

Stiles didn’t say anything for a moment.  He took a deep, shaky breath and said, “I’ll try…”

“Stiles.” His dad said, his voice tired through the phone.

Stiles huffed out a tiny breath, scratching his forehead with the heel of his hand, “I promise I’ll try, but…” he sighed again, trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say without making his dad think he was completely insane. 

“What-”       

The banging on the door interrupted what his father was going to say.  Stiles jumped at the sound and Addie opened the door enough to peak her head around the door, her long hair dripping snow to the floor.  “Peter is heading this way.”  She said, “You need to hang up.”

Then she was gone and Stiles turned back to stare at the bed.  “I have to go.”  He said, his voice hitching.  He didn’t wait to hear what his dad said, “There’s more to this than you know, dad.”  He said quickly, “I don’t want to see anyone else die, especially not you, so please.”  He said in a trembling voice.  “ _Please_ don’t look for me.”

There was barely a second for stunned silence on the other end of the phone before his dad started talking, “What- Stiles, I’m not ever gonna stop looking for you.” He said, making Stiles feel a strange mix of worry and relief before he continued, “Just tell me where you think-”

“Dad” he said quietly, looking up to the door, but his dad continued.

“Okay, but, anything, Stiles, whatever you think will help-”

Stiles rubbed his hand across his forehead again, “Dad.”  He said again, a little louder.

“I’m not giving up on you, kid, I’m not just-”

“DAD.”  He said loudly, making his dad stop, “I love you.”  He said in a whisper.

The sheriff was quiet for a half a second before he said, “I love you too.” 

Then before the sheriff could say anything else, Stiles slammed the phone onto the receiver and hid his face in the darkness his arms created around his knees.  He let himself freak out for a moment before he sat up with his eyes closed.  He took a deep breath and turned to where Addie sat the wine on the nightstand.

The wine was cool in his mouth as he drank until the glass was empty in his hands.  He slowly lowered the glass when the last drop of wine fell to his lips, holding the glass in loose fingers as the door slowly opened.

Addie slipped inside, shaking the snow from her black hair with her fingertips, and sat beside Stiles on the bed.  “Are you alright?”  she asked quietly, concern etched into her features.

Stiles looked around the room, hoping the wine would soothe his racing heart.  After a few seconds of silence, Stiles shook his head.  The air around his body seemed to get warmer, but Stiles knew that it was in his head… He just needed to calm down and slow his heart rate without completely breaking down.

He stood.  Stiles couldn’t stay in that room without either crying or calling his dad again without caring that Peter was within earshot…  He couldn’t risk Peter knowing he called his dad, so he quickly walked around the bed to where he had thrown his shoes, quickly pulling them on.

“Where are you going, Stiles?”  Addie asked, standing to follow him.

He shook his head again, “I can’t stay in this room, Addie.”  He said, opening the door and walking out into the snow.  The cold air felt good against the light sheen of sweat on Stiles’ forehead.  The air felt thin in his throat and for a moment, he could breathe without the uncomfortable feeling around his heart.

* * *

 

John couldn’t believe it. 

He knew Stiles wouldn’t stop until he found a way to either escape or call for help but…

He hadn’t heard a thing from Stiles since he went missing.  The house seemed bigger and emptier, his loss aching in his heart made worse by the lack of information for so long… He didn’t know if his son was alive or-

Or not, and the worry kept him up at night.

He looked down at the small notepad covered in quick handwriting, next to the tall bottle and short glass he had filled just before his phone rang.

John tried not to drink too much.  Not after what had happened the week after Claudia’s funeral… He swore that he’d not do that again.  He had to be there for Stiles.

But Stiles is gone now and it’s killing him.  He just needed a drink.

Then he got a call and he couldn’t believe it.  John sat silently, staring at the page where he wrote down what Stiles had told him.  A part of him didn’t believe that it really happened.   Maybe he had imagined the call…

He shook his head.  Stiles was the only family he had left.  He couldn’t let this lead go to waste.  So he grabbed the pad of paper and all but ran for the door to drive to the station.

* * *

 

Stiles’ breath fogged in front of him as he crossed the parking lot, blinking the snowflakes from his eyelashes.  The cold air felt amazing through the thin material of his hoodie, a small part of his mind reminded him that he should be wearing a winter coat…

He thought back to the light blue piece of paper, fading with age, that his mother pinned to the wall when he started school that told him what winter clothes to wear when it got to be too cold.

Stiles didn’t stop walking until he crossed the parking lot.  The snow was so thick he could barely see the motel building through the thick snow, but he didn’t care.  He walked past the treeline so he was surrounded by tall, skinny, snow-covered trees.

“Stiles.  It is not safe out here.  You should be back in the room.”  Addie said, trailing after him.

He ignored her.  The snow was mostly blocked out by the treetops, so the dirt peeked through the small piles of snow that had managed to gather.

Stiles stopped in the middle of a small clearing in the trees where the snow fell around him.  “Stiles,” Addie said, “You should come back to the room.”

He turned, but before he could say anything to her, something slammed into his side, pulling him to the ground and pushing the air from his lungs.

The weight on top of him squirmed and whimpered when he shoved as hard as he could to move into a sitting position.  He scrambled away on his back until he could see the person lying on the ground.

The girl was lying on her side, her pale arms wrapped around her stomach.  Her long blond hair was tangled and covered in snow and dirt, and her feet were bare and red from the cold.

She whimpered and pushed herself up, slowly crawling away from them on her hands and knees.  When she moved, Stiles could see bright red blood staining the side of her white nightgown, and dark goo covering her chin.

Peter slowly walked through the trees, stopped a few feet away from the girl crawling away.  “What is Stiles doing out here?”  he said, not turning his gaze from the girl on the ground.

Addie stepped forward from where she was standing at the edge of the clearing.  “I thought it would be a good idea to go out for some air.”  She said, looking at the ground.

Peter said nothing as he watched the girl try to stand to run, only to fall to the ground with a sad whimper.  “We’ll discuss this later.”  He said dangerously. 

Stiles inched closer to the girl on the ground.  He didn’t know what to ask her.  ‘Are you ok?’ seemed stupid for this situation… ‘What happened?’ was pointless too.  He knew Peter bit the girl and she was running for her life. 

So he inched forward until he could gently rest his hand on her shoulder.  “It’s going to be ok.”   He knew it wasn’t true… But false hope seemed like the best option for her.

“No it’s not, Stiles.”  Peter said, moving closer to them.

The girl leaned on him, resting her head on the crook of his arm.  “Help.”  She whispered, tears falling down her cheeks, sparkling in the pale light of the rising moon through the clouds.

He stayed still so he wouldn’t cause her more pain, looking up at Peter and Addie with wide eyes.  “Help her.” He said in a small voice.

“Move.”  Peter said, moving closer until the toes of his plain black shoes brushed against the edge of the girl’s nightgown.  Stiles looked up to see the bloody claws on his eye level.

Stiles wrapped his arms around the girl, sheltering her from the wolf above them with his body and making her cry out at the sudden jolt of movement.

“She’s dying, Stiles.”  The girl whimpered in his arms.  “There is no helping her now.”

Stiles shook his head, pressing his palms to the wounds on her side, her blood was warm under his hands, making his stomach turn but he held firm.  “Call an ambulance.”  He said with a shakey voice.

Peter knelt beside the girl so Stiles was at his eye level, “Let me kill her, Stiles.”

He pulled the girl away from Peter, making her cry out in pain.  Stiles froze at the noise and let his hand flutter around her stomach before reaplying the pressure on her wound.  She arched under his hands, crying out louder than before.

The wolf didn’t move any closer when Stiles pulled her away.  He simply watched them with a blank face as the girl screamed and cried.  “This is the best option for her now.  Move so I can put her out of her misery.”  He reached out to touch Stiles’ elbow.

Stiles flinched back before he could stop himself. 

He looked down at the tear tracks working their way down the girl’s cheeks as he silently cursed himself.  “There has to be another way.”  He whispered to himself.

“There’s not.”  Peter said, moving a step closer so Stiles could feel the heat coming off his body through his dress shirt.

The girl cried out as she shifted in Stiles’ arms.  “Please!” She cried, “Please make it stop!”  she yelled, her voice punctuated with sobs as snow fell onto her pale face.

Stiles looked down at the girl then back up at Peter.  The wolf was staring at him with a dark look in his eyes, the color in his eyes blocked out by the wide pupils.  “it’s the only way.”

The girl’s eyes were shut tightly, fluttering with every breath.

He slowly moved back, pulling his arm away from her shoulder where it blocked her body from Peter’s claws.

Before Stiles pulled away completely, Peter moved, so quickly he was practically blurred, and pressed his knuckles to Stiles’ abdomen.  With a quick swipe, he dragged his claws across the girl’s throat.

Her whole body convulsed against Stiles’ body, her warm blood splashing on the arm of his hoodie, leeching warmth into his skin. 

Stiles stared at the girl’s face as the blood drained out of the gaping wound, her eyes dancing around wildly, little gasping breaths escaping her lips.

It felt like an eternity before her body went slack in his arms, her sightless eyes staring at the clouds above them.

* * *

 

The rest of the hour passed in a blur.

John had taken what Stiles had told him to the station where a few of the deputies who weren’t ready to give up worked to find Stiles whenever they had a few minutes of downtime.

He told them what Stiles had said and one of the deputies found the location of the motel, and called Agent McCall.  As much as the Sheriff hated to admit it, Agent McCall was the lead on Stiles’ case.

Agent McCall got to the station, tired and short tempered.  After the agent had heard what happened, he looked at the sheriff like he was crazy.

He made a comment about the sheriff’s drinking.  He asked if the sheriff had imagined what happened in desperation with a sympathetic voice.

He didn’t admit to the man that he had had those same fears.

John was saved from answering by the phone ringing on the desk.

* * *

 

Stiles felt frozen to the ground. 

His breath froze in his lungs. 

He could only stare at her blank face. 

He thought back to the red haired nurse’s blood that pooled around her body.

He glanced at the ground around them, frowning at the small drops of red. 

There must be more blood.

Before he could fully compute what had happened, Peter stood, pulling him to his feet and letting the girl crumple to the ground.  Stiles could see where he sat, blood pooled around where he was. 

They would know someone was there when they found her body in the morning…

Stiles didn’t fight the strong hand that closed around his elbow and pulled him to the car.  He said nothing as Peter pushed him into the car with the blood drying on his clothes.

* * *

 

The motel had been swarming with people when the sheriff got there.  He hadn’t slept on the plane ride over… he was too worried.

He had hoped that they would have stayed at that hotel long enough for the police to get Stiles safe… but, realistically, he knew they wouldn’t get to him in time.

John was sick with worry about what Stiles had said… Peter Hale was coming back when his son hung up.  The local police had told him that the motel room the “Family” had rented was empty when the police broke down the door. 

There was no blood, no body, and no reason for the Sheriff to assume Peter hurt Stiles in any way at that motel.

Eddie was the officer who called in the sighting.  He sat in the office/bar of the motel on one of the stools with tired eyes as he apologized again for not doing things differently. 

John knew that the officer did the most logical thing in that situation…

If he had been in that officer’s place, he would have had to make sure he was right before he acted.

John stepped closer to where the officer was explaining what had happened to McCall. 

“I thought I recognized the kid from the pictures.” He said, “So I went home to find that poster to make sure.”

“Why didn’t you act immediately?”  Agent McCall asked without looking up from the pad of paper he was writing on.

Eddie glanced between the sheriff and the agent with a look on his face that said agent McCall was an idiot.  “Look,” he said, “I saw there were bruises on the kids neck.”  He raised his hand so his thumb rested against one side of his neck and his fingertips rested against the other.  “Like this.”

John’s heart twisted painfully.  He knew Stiles wouldn’t stay docile with a kidnapper unless death was his other option… but it still hurt to really know it.

Eddie must have noticed his sour expression, because he rushed to say, “But I didn’t see any other harm.”  He said, “other than being a little thinner he looked perfectly fine.”

The sheriff nodded.  He didn’t say anything as the door burst open, letting the cold air into the warm office, as a young woman in the dark blue police uniform rushed in with a near panicked look on her face.

“Eddie!” she yelled, “It’s Natalie.”

Eddie stood, fear painted on his face.  He walked over to the woman, they talked quietly for a moment before Eddie ran out of the room into the quickly falling snow. 

The sheriff stared after him for a moment, frowning in confusion before walking through the small door on the opposite end of the bar to the security office. 

They had played back the footage from the one working camera in the parking lot.

A sleek black car sped into the parking lot, two women got out of the car’s front seats.  One dressed plainly, jeans and a thin pale puffy coat with her long hair tied back in a high ponytail.  The other dressed in a long dress and had managed to keep her back to the camera so they couldn’t get the chance to look at her face to try to find out who she is.

The women waited at the hood of the car when Peter Hale got out and walked around the car, opening the other door to pull Stiles out.

“I thought he was burnt?” a woman said from behind him, he ignored her to watch the video.

 After Stiles was standing, he walked behind the group with the woman in the dress beside him. 

There was something familiar about the woman… but John couldn’t put his finger on it…

They fast forwarded the tape when the group got into a motel room, Peter and one of the women left, running out of the camera’s view as soon as they had got the room. 

After the tape rolled forward a little more, Stiles walked out of the room and across the empty parking lot, disappearing into the trees, followed by the woman in the dress who still didn’t show her face to the camera.

They moved the tape forward a little more until the kidnapper walked through the trees, dragging a stumbling Stiles away from the trees. 

Stiles’ face was too grainy and dark to see, but the boy seemed completely stunned, his clothes stained with big dark patches that looked like blood in the darkness.

The simply dressed woman ran into the motel room, bringing a bag out to where Peter was pushing Stiles into the car.  They sped off before the doors were completely closed, driving away from the motel.

The sheriff turned away. 

They left barely six hours ago.

He walked out of the room to where Eddie stood with his head in his hands at the bar.  It wasn’t difficult to listen in on one of the whispered conversations around the room. 

There was a body in the woods, cut up and bitten, killed by an animal.

Eddie’s daughter.

* * *

 

He was silent as Pamela drove them away from the house. 

The ringing in his ears loud in the silence.

The light broke through the horizon, telling Stiles that it was morning. 

He looked around, frowning at the large garage in front of them and the dried blood covering his clothes.  Peter opened his door and dragged the boy out into the freezing cold air.

Stiles didn’t bother fighting the wolf as he was dragged upstairs.

He stared straight ahead at the wall as Peter all but ripped his bloody clothes off his thin body.

When Peter turned him so he was on his hands and knees, Stiles saw fire eating its way through the room.  The pain that Peter made him feel turned to burning as the fire ate at his veins, turning him to an open flame that made Peter turn to ash around him.

The fire danced behind his eyelids as Peter finished, pulling them both to lay on their sides with Stiles wrapped in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (Slightly late) birthday America. We’re gonna pretend it’s still the 4th, even though it’s the 5th.
> 
> There is a seemingly unfunny line in this that makes me cackle like a madman, and I’m telling you this so you can agonize over what makes me laugh. :)
> 
> Watch out for the end of this month. I’m hoping to have a surprise for our one year anniversary. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/11/14

Addie was sitting in her chair beside the bed when he woke up, the afternoon sun streaming through the window, making her hair shine.  As soon as he opened his eyes, Addie smiled at him.  “I have a gift for you, Stiles,” She said, her accent peeking out of her words.

Stiles sat up, his body sore from the night before.  His wrist itched where some of that girl’s blood got on his skin, but he ignored it.  He felt cold, and it didn’t have anything to do with his naked body under the covers.

The woman held up her hand, showing him a small, silver track phone.  “I got you this.”  She said, holding it in her palm.  “Now, whenever Peter is away, you can call home.”

Stiles reached for the phone, but Addie pulled it back, “I will keep the phone in my room when Peter is here.  If he finds out you have it, you will be punished.”  

They were silent for a second, “I was thinking about taking a trip,” she said, “To Beacon Hills.”  Stiles looked up from the emerald bedspread with wide eyes before she continued, “I thought you might like some photos of your family?”

Stiles nodded mutely, trying to think of something to say but his mind was empty.

Addie smiled.  “I will only be gone for a day or so,” she said, “Just be patient, Stiles.  I’ll leave tonight.”

Stiles nodded and leaned back against the headboard, staring out the window. 

After a few moments of silence, Stiles could feel Addie’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn.  He could almost feel the ghost of the girl in his arms as she died…

The clothes that Peter tore away from them were scattered around the room, Stiles could see the dried blood making the fabric hard and stiff on the plain carpet.

“I wish you had not seen what you saw last night, Stiles.” Addie said, setting a small plate with two pieces of plain on the bed in front of him.  “I honestly thought the girl would live.  Natalie was strong…”  Her voice trailed off

“Natalie.”  Stiles whispered, seeing her pale face behind his eyes.  The blood around her throat mingled with the woman with dark red hair and darker blood around her head like a sick halo on the dining room floor in his mind.   

A sad, cold feeling ate away at his stomach when he realized what he never bothered to think about before, “What was her name?”  He whispered, holding his arms around his bare chest.

“Whose name?”  Addie said, tucking the cell phone into her sleeve.

“That girl.”  He said, staring out the window and seeing the afternoon sky above them.  “The one Peter killed in the dining room.”

He felt Addie stare at him for a moment.  She opened her mouth, only to close it again when no sound came out.  “I don’t know.”  She finally said, her voice stretching strangely around the words.  After a beat of silence, she said, “Pamela had her bitten after the fire.  I never knew her.”

Stiles said nothing.  He looked down to his folded hands where there was still blood under his fingernails.

Blood had been on Peter’s claws each time the wolf had used his body till he ached and made him want to scrub all the skin off his body where his come had dried to a sticky, flakey mess. 

“I need a shower.”  Stiles said, scratching at the bloody skin.

Addie nodded, “I will leave you alone then.”  She said, taking the plate off the bed to put it back on the nightstand, pushing a glass of wine into his hands.  “After your shower, we can go out and start your training.”

Stiles didn’t care what that meant, so long as she left the room.  He drank the wine and didn’t move until Addie shut the door behind her.  He dropped his head in his hands, taking small soothing breaths until he could breathe through the gaping hole in his gut.

He pushed the blankets away from him, looking away from the hand shaped bruises on his pale thighs.  Stiles quickly stood and tried to breathe away the nausea at the sick wet feeling of Peter leaking back out of his body. 

It was getting easier to push away the nausea and ignore things he didn’t want to think about… he didn’t really know if he should be happy about that.

Stiles scrubbed his body raw, scrubbing the blood and come away from his skin until he turned red under the hot water.  He leaned forward in the water, letting it trail down his skin to wash away all evidence of Peter from his body.

When he was finished, he stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the big mirror over the sink to stare at his body, red from scrubbing.  Bruises covered his neck and chest, he could see where Peter wrapped his hand around Stiles’ neck when he was inside him… If he looked closely enough, he could almost see the outline of his fingers.

He remembered the fire he became in his mind.  Peter became ash when he touched Stiles’ skin.  The thought made the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach ease with the knowledge that, one way or another, he would kill Peter.

Or die trying.

Stiles quickly dried off and dressed in jeans and a plain black hoodie and walked into the bedroom.  Addie had said that he would start some kind of training today, but the room was empty.  He looked around, wringing his hands.

His eyes landed on the door to the hallway.  Addie had told him that the door wouldn’t be locked now that he … He quickly walked to the door and rested his hand on the knob, waiting, expecting some kind of trick.

He took a deep breath before he hesitantly opened the door; a part of him worrying about the door opening under his hands being a mistake that Peter would punish him for.

The hall outside the room was empty and quiet.   

He looked around and slowly stepped in the hall, closing the door behind him.  The bedroom was in the middle of the hall with two doors on the other side, both shut.

He turned away from the stairs that led to the dining room, planning to explore while he could. 

Stiles turned the corner and nearly jumped out of his skin when he bumped into Addie.

The woman steadied him with two firm hands on his elbows.  She quickly let him go, “I am glad you came out to explore a bit,” she said, brushing her fingertips over his sleeves, brushing away the wrinkles at his elbows.  “But Gideon is waiting for us downstairs.”

She began to walk down the hall, not waiting to see if Stiles would follow her after he caught his breath.

He hesitated for a moment before he followed her down the hall.  Her powder blue dress brushed against the floor as she walked.  The cloth cut shorter on her back, showing little black lines of tattoos swirling along her back peeked out through her hair.

Before he could figure out what the tattoos were supposed to be, Addie turned.  “You can explore as much as you want tomorrow, Stiles.”  She smiled at him, “You cannot be trained unless I am there.  We have orders.”

She slowed so she walked beside him, slowly resting her hand on his elbow.  They walked down the stairs in comfortable silence.  She was leading him through parts of the house that he hadn’t been to before, down the stairs until they reached the ground floor.

They kept walking until she stopped in front of a plain dark wood door.  She pulled away from him just before she opened it.  “Be careful, Stiles.  These are the betas that you cannot trust under any circumstances.”

When Stiles nodded, she opened the door to show a well lit staircase leading down to a room with a blue floor.  She started to lead them down, but Stiles pulled away.

Addie turned with a small frown and a line between her eyebrows, “What?” she asked, walking up the stairs again to stand near Stiles.  “What is it?”

Stiles stared down the steps, “I don’t want to go in the basement.”  He whispered, remembering the dark room Peter had taken him to after he ran.

Addie gently touched his hand, her skin overly warm on his, “We are only going to the training room.”  She said, “The Dark Room is on the other side of the house.”  Stiles nodded, and Addie continued, “Gideon is down there.”

Stiles understood what she meant and straightened his shoulders.   Addie smiled and went back down the stairs, slower than before, hovering close to Stiles so he could feel the warmth coming off her.  Something about her presence comforted him as they walked down the steps.

The training room was large and open, the stairs only taking up a small fraction of the room.  Three walls and the floor were covered with blue padding, various weapons and targets of all shapes and sizes were hung on the wall on either side of the stairs. 

He looked around at the well lit room for another moment before his eyes landed on Gideon, standing with his arms behind his back a few feet away.   The man’s short graying blond hair turned almost white under the florescent lights, and the grey tanktop he wore stretched over his chest, showing the wolf’s muscles.

“It’s about time you got up,”  Gideon said.  His steps were silent as he walked past Stiles to get to the wall of weapons.  “I was told to teach you how to shoot since you might be...” he looked Stiles up and down with a small frown, “A little too sore to try physical training.”

Stiles looked away, but Addie spoke up, “Enough, Gideon.”  She said, the authority in her tone surprising him.  When Gideon turned away to open a small drawer from the wall, she smiled at him.  He smiled a little in response.

“Well come here then,” Gideon said, waving him over. 

Stiles only hesitated for a moment, glancing at Addie before he walked to where Gideon waited for him.  Gideon turned, holding the gun Tyler had showed Stiles at the dinner table out for him to take.

Addie moved closer and stood behind Stiles and watched as he slowly reached out and took the gun.  “You said that you knew how to shoot?”  Gideon asked, picking a paper target off the wall, away from the others.

Stiles nodded and held the gun in his palms, not wrapping his fingers around the cool metal yet. 

Gideon pushed the target to the far wall, spreading his arms wide and stepping to the side, walking back to where Stiles and Addie stood.  “Then show me.”

Stiles glanced over his shoulder to Addie.  She nodded her head with a small smile.  He curled his fingers over the bumpy grip while he carefully pressed the button on the side that released the magazine into his hand, just like his dad taught him when he was old enough to start snooping through things around the house.

He saw a single gold bullet through the black metal before he pushed the magazine back in the gun with the palm of his hand until it clicked.  Stiles glanced over at Gideon who was watching his hands around the gun with his arms folded over his chest and a fairly impressed look on his face, like he was impressed that Stiles knew how to check that the gun was loaded.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles cupped his hands around the grip, gently pressing his fingertip to the cool, smooth trigger.  He took a deep breath as he aimed, pointing the gun across the long room at the target.   He quickly pulled back the slide and returned his hand to the grip.  When he inhaled, he hesitated for a moment before he exhaled, preparing for the kickback.

Just as he exhaled the breath, he squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet to the center of the target.

Stiles smiled a little as he lowered the gun, keeping the gun pointed at the ground as he turned to look at Addie and Gideon.  Addie was smiling proudly, looking between Stiles and Gideon.  The wolf raised his eyebrows, just as he was going to speak, there was a light clapping from the stairs.

He jumped and quickly turned back to the stairs, his hand lifting a fraction of an inch before he stopped himself. 

“You know Dylan,” Addie said in a light tone, “It is not generally a good idea to sneak up on someone with a gun.”

Dylan smiled, showing too much teeth as he walked down the stairs.  “But where’s the fun in that, darling?”  He asked, walking down the rest of the steps.

Addie rolled her eyes and stepped closer to Stiles, taking the gun from his hands and handing it to Gideon.  “What are you doing here?”  She asked as Gideon put the gun back in a silver case in the drawer.

Dylan walked past Stiles to the wall and carefully picked the bow off the hooks.  “I’m teaching.”  He said, tossing the bow to Stiles so fast it was nearly a blur.  Stiles reacted quickly, his hands coming up to block the bow from hitting him, closing around the bow when it hit his palms and stepping back a little.

He looked down at the bow in his hands with wide eyes as Dylan said, “He may well learn from the best.” 

Stiles lowered the bow as Dylan slowly began circling him. 

He kept his eyes on the wolf as he spoke, “Have you ever shot a bow before?”  Dylan said, stopping when he’d completely circled Stiles.

“Not in years.”  Stiles said, frowning when the wolf stepped closer.

Dylan smiled, “The bow is such a great weapon, don’t you think?”  He asked, picking an arrow up and spinning it around with his fingertips.

“Not very discreet.”  Gideon said, leaning against the wall, “Too bulky for my taste.”

Dylan smiled, looking at the ground before glancing over his shoulder.   “Don’t you have puppies to train, Gideon?”  Dylan asked, “You’re welcome to leave.” 

Stiles almost smiled when Gideon rolled his eyes and walked up the stairs, slamming the door behind him. 

Dylan turned back to Stiles, smiling as he gently took Stiles’ wrist, pulling the boy’s hand off the bow and raising it to shoulder level before he slowly placed the arrow he’d been spinning in the palm of Stiles’ hand, closing his fingers around the thin arrow.

Stiles frowned and pulled his hand away when Dylan gestured for him to try to shoot the arrow.  He hesitantly notched the arrow on the bow string, turning to the target across the room and pulling the string back like he’d seen on tv.

Dylan scoffed, looking down at the ground to hide his smile.   Stiles let the string go loose, lowering the bow, “I’m not that bad!”  He said indignantly.

The wolf nodded, holding his hands up.  “That’s true.”  He said, “You’re pointing it the right way.” 

 Stiles glared as Dylan laughed.  “Here,” he said, stepping forward.  He kept eye contact as he came closer, like he was waiting for Stiles to pull away. 

His skin was warm as he gently adjusted Stiles’ fingers on the bow, letting the arrow rest on his index finger.  When the wolf was satisfied, he moved to the hand on the string, removing all but two of his fingers holding the string back.

Dylan held eye contact as he moved around Stiles, only looking away when he was behind Stiles.  He put both hands on Stiles’ shoulders, turning him so he faced the way Dylan wanted him to be.  Stiles looked over at Addie who stood with her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

“Look at the target.”  Dylan said, reaching around Stiles’ shoulders to turn his head back with a hand on his chin, bringing their bodies closer together before lowering his hand to his shoulder again. 

Stiles was confused for a moment, surely Dylan wasn’t allowed to touch him like this?

“Keep your core strong…” he said, trailing his fingers down Stiles’ ribs and back to his shoulders.  He placed his hands over Stiles’ on the bow, urging Stiles to pull back the string until Stiles’ hand touched his chin.

He bit back the unease at the wolf pressed against his back.

Dylan breathed in, his warm breath tickling the short hairs at the back of Stiles’ neck.  “Breathe in…” he whispered, waiting for Stiles to obey what he told him, “aim,” he said, loosening his grip to let Stiles aim, “Breathe out… and fire.”  Stiles straightened his fingers, letting the arrow fly past his head to land at the center circle of the target.

Stiles smiled, but his pride faded under the confusion at the werewolf still pressed against his back.  “Hold the position…” he said, gently holding Stiles’ elbow in place.

“Dylan?”  Stiles said, turning his head slightly so he could see Dylan out of the corner of his eye.  The wolf was staring down at the target, but his eyes flicked to Stiles when he spoke.  “I hit the target.”   He said.

He felt Dylan nod. 

“Then how long, exactly, do you have to hold the position?” Stiles asked quietly, trying to hide his relief when the wolf moved away.

Addie moved past him to get the arrow out of the center of the target.  “Congratulations, Stiles.” She said, pulling the arrow out of the padded wall.  “Maybe you should try again without so much assistance.” she paused in front of Dylan before she held the arrow out for him to take.

Stiles took the arrow and watched as Addie caught Dylan’s sleeve, tugging him back to let him try to shoot the arrow on his own. 

He carefully pulled back the arrow, repeating the steps Dylan showed him in his mind.  He only hesitated for a moment before he let go of the string and let the arrow fly again, smiling when it hit the center circle of the target again.

Addie was smiling when he turned to her.  “You did well, Stiles.”  She said, stepping closer to the boy as he lowered the bow.

Dylan nodded, pulling the arrow out of the wall to pull the paper away, “Yeah, you’re a natural.”  He held up the paper target for them to see.  The red center circle was pierced with three small holes.

Addie glanced at the clock in the corner, “Dinner time, Stiles.”  She said, pulling Stiles to the stairs.

“But we only just started” Dylan said, smiling at Stiles, spinning the arrow around his fingertips again.

The woman stopped with a small sigh, “If _you_ would like to explain Stiles’ absence to Peter, be my guest.”  She smiled as she turned back, tugging Stiles up the stairs.

“Be careful around him,” Addie said quietly at the top of the stairs.  Before he could tell her that that was obvious, she said, “Hush.  I need to leave now,” she said, “I’ll be back tomorrow around this time, and you cannot be trained without me, so you can look around the house.”  She waved her hand at the walls as she walked.

She led them to a closed door; Stiles could hear the betas talking behind it.  She turned to him with her hand on the knob, “Eat, sleep, wake up,” she smiled, “Try not to get lost.”  Stiles rolled his eyes and she continued before he could say anything.  “Sammy will bring you breakfast and wine.  Be careful…” she squeezed his arm before she turned away.

Stiles nodded and took a deep breath before he opened the door to the dining room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never shot a handgun before, so forgive me if my description of Stiles shooting the gun was wrong… I used WikiHow…. I did not use wiki how for the bow and arrow, but I figured since Stiles and I haven’t shot an arrow in years, it works out.
> 
> Someday I’ll post on time, but this is not that day.
> 
> I’m trying to make the next few chapter a bit lighter since the last chapter about made me cry… So I hope it’s a bit lighter :) Sorry if it’s a bit boring, it’s mostly set up and stuff. Fun will come again soon. ;)
> 
> Also, this chapter isn’t betaed. I only use a beta sometimes (So far the only ones that are betaed are 15-18), so tell me if you guys think I could use a beta for every chapter, or if I should use my betas every so often


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7/27/14

The betas were talking quietly with whoever sat closest to them.  A few laughed, but most of them were quiet, whispering with the occasional growl and a flash of their blue eyes before they were silent again.

They stopped when Stiles walked in.  He felt their eyes on them for a split second before they moved as one to move their heads to the side to show him their necks.  

Stiles stopped a few steps in the dining room, staring around at the silent betas.  Part of him wanted to say something, to tell them that they shouldn’t stop talking with each other just because he came in, but he couldn’t.

Peter spoke up from the front of the room, “Stiles.”  He said, his voice loud in the quiet, making Stiles jump a little.  “Come here.”

Stiles nodded and looked at the betas again.  He scratched his forehead and quickly walked to the table to his seat.  He walked past the empty seat where Addie would be and quickly sat down, looking down at the empty plate until the chatter started again.

He looked up when he heard someone walk towards the table. 

Sammy had her long hair pulled back into a ponytail to show her head tilted to the side so the tendon in her neck stuck out as she crept forward.  The girl gently put a bottle on the table in front of Stiles without saying a word before she all but ran back to her seat in the middle of one of the tables.

Stiles was quiet as he leaned forward to grab the bottle and fill the empty cup with the wine he assumed Addie left for him, staying quiet as he quickly put food on the plate… He wasn’t really hungry, but he forced himself to eat the food without really tasting it.

He could feel Peter’s eyes on him as the wolf glanced over every few moments.  It made him uneasy, but he pretended he didn’t notice it while he ate and drank, waiting for the wine to warm his chest and ease away the headache that was beginning to form.

Dylan never came to dinner.                 

Peter didn’t have to say anything for the betas to run up and take the dirty plates away from the big table to a door at the far side of the room.  Stiles moved to get up, but Peter held him back, holding his arm to the chair.

Stiles forced himself not to tense up under the wolf’s grip.

Peter leaned close to Stiles to whisper, “Why do you smell like Dylan?”  His face was blank but Stiles could feel the danger in the air.

Stiles frowned, trying to figure out what version would keep him out of trouble.  “He was training me.”  He looked down at the dark wood table for a moment, showing the wolf his neck before he looked back up at Peter.

Peter raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.  It made Stiles nervous, so he spoke again, “He taught me how to shoot an arrow.”  He said, “So he was touching me a lot…”  He looked down at his lap, where he ran his fingertips over his arm.

The wolf nodded and stood, straightening his dark blue shirt before he walked away, leaving Stiles alone at the table.

He stared after Peter for a moment in confusion before he stood, looking around the room.  The windows behind him showed the slowly falling snow.  The darkness outside didn’t provide much light in the dining room, so the lights were casting pools of warm light around the edges of the room.

The room had the same dark wood and clean white walls that the entire house had, Stiles knew it was meant to look warm and inviting, but the air was cold, chilling his lungs with every breath. 

Peter had left him without a word… He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, so he decided to explore like Addie told him, walking to the closest dark wood door and opening it. 

No one was in sight, so he walked down the silent hallway, the dark wood paneling along the bottom of the wall and the dark wood floor gleamed under the bright lights.  It was strange that a house full of wolves would be completely clean… There wasn’t not even a scratch in the paint.

The silence was broken with a whir of the furnace turning on.  Stiles looked up as the small vent over his head blew out warm air, tickling his face and doing nothing for the cold he felt around him.

Stiles continued walking down the hall, his steps occasionally quieted by the small red carpets spaced along the floor.  A pair of doors were a few feet in front of him, both closed and quiet a short distance ahead.

He stopped when he reached them, looking between them for a moment.  Curiosity quickly overtook the fear that he shouldn’t be there.  Even though part of him was warning him that he might be punished, he opened the door on his right. 

There were no windows to let in the light, making the room completely dark beyond the pool of light from the door.  Stiles stepped inside the room, feeling along the wall for a light switch.  When the light illuminated the room, Stiles gaped at the sight.

The floor was all clean white tiles, gleaming under the florescent lights and reflecting the brown walls.  Guns, bows, arrows, shiny swords, daggers and weapons Stiles didn’t even have a name for were hooked on the wall; big guns were lined up along the far wall in a dark metal shelf, and the floor along the wall was lined with boxes.

_What would they need all this weaponry for?_ Stiles thought to himself, walking further into the room to gently run his fingertips along the curve of a shiny black bow that had to be the same height as him.  Werewolves had teeth and claws, why do they need enough weapons to equip a small army?

Stiles opened the drawer under the gun rack and frowned at the cases of bullets… before he could pick  up a box, he heard footsteps from the door he left open.  “Bring him to me.”  Peter said, the tone of his voice sending a shiver of fear down Stiles’ spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

He looked to the guns beside him.  He’d never shot a gun like that before, only handguns like the gun his dad had taught him to use… Stiles could feel his heart beat faster at the thought of grabbing one of the guns and putting a bullet in Peter’s head.

Stiles’ hand moved to the gun, his skin itching with anticipation.  He didn’t even know how to load this gun, but he didn’t care. 

Briefly, he knew that most of the betas, especially the ones that ate at Peter’s table, would kill him in a heartbeat if he actually managed to kill Peter.

That is, they would if Peter didn’t catch him first…

“Stiles,” Peter said from the doorway, making Stiles flinch a little with his hand still hovering toward the gun.  “Come here.”

Stiles clenched his fist, cursing himself for wasting this opportunity.  He smiled lightly and turned, letting his hand fall to his side as he followed after Peter.  The boy pushed aside the snide, angry thoughts about obedient dogs as Peter wrapped a possessive hand around his elbow.

The air was warmer than it was before, but Stiles was still cold as they walked back the way Stiles came through the dining room through the door that Stiles knew led upstairs.  “Peter!” Stiles looked over his shoulder to where he saw Dylan running up to them from across the room.

Peter pulled him to a stop and let go of Stiles’ elbow.  “Dylan.  There you are.”  Peter’s voice was flat and cold when he spoke, making Dylan stop short a few feet away and look at the ground.

There was a long moment of silence where Peter stared at Dylan.  Stiles looked between Peter and the wolf in front of him as the silence stretched.

“Stiles is an excellent shot.”  Dylan said, breaking the silence and lifting his head to let his eyes trail up Stiles’ body.

Peter’s low growl made Stiles’ skin crawl.  “Why, exactly, does he smell so much like you?” he said, taking slow steps closer to Dylan. 

Dylan looked confused for a moment, his black eyebrows drawing closer together over green eyes.  He huffed a small, slightly nervous laugh, “Well, we usually share the new ones-”

Before Dylan could finish his sentence, Peter jumped forward.  The sound of skin hitting skin was as loud as a gunshot in the quiet dining room, making Stiles flinch in surprise as Dylan fell to the floor, skidding a short distance away, clutching his face.

Peter stood tall again, pulling a small cloth out of his pocket to quickly wipe the blood away from under his claws.  “Not this one.”  Peter said, slowly turning back to Stiles with a dark smirk.

Dylan sat up, letting Stiles see the three long claw marks that lined his face.  Blood trailed down his neck as he watched Peter pull Stiles away by a strong, still claw-tipped hand on the elbow. 

Stiles turned away from the wolf on the floor to follow where Peter pulled him, staying completely silent as they walked up the stairs.

He tried not to think about what Dylan had said, but his mind kept flashing back to it as Peter opened the door to the bedroom.  The wolf was silent as he walked to the bathroom, pulling off the dark blue shirt he wore in a smooth motion, showing Stiles the strong lines of muscle along the wolf’s back, shifting as he moved and stretched his arms.

Stiles’ eyes wandered along the strong body before he realized what he was doing.  He jerked his head away when his brain caught up to his hormones.

He shook his head as Peter disappeared in the bathroom, trying to shake off the confusion from the wolf’s bare skin.  Stiles thought of what Dylan had said as he went to the closet to change out of his jeans for the night.

Stiles moved back to sit on the edge of the bed in his simple white shirt and sweat pants, thinking back to the betas that he’d seen many times a day since he was taken without thinking about how they got there.

The boy thought of them as monsters… merciless killers like their alpha.

He thought about the girl that died running from Peter not even two days before… Natalie was just a scared girl, running just like Scott had.  Stiles looked up at the cloud covered moon. 

It was better that she died.

If she had survived…

Stiles didn’t know the details about what the alpha did to the new betas… but he wasn’t stupid.  He knew what Dylan meant by sharing... And the betas being so skittish around the alpha…

He wondered how many of the betas came to the House in his position.  Forced into servitude and taken to bed-

Peter moved around the bed to sit beside him without saying a word.

Stiles looked over at Peter with wide eyes, briefly wondering how many people Peter had in his position.  He gave the wolf a small smile, knowing that his expression would be taken as warm as he imagined the wolf dead at his feet.

He said nothing as he slid backwards, laying on his back before turning to lie on his side, facing the wall with his back to the wolf.

The wolf was warm against his back as he ran his fingers along Stiles’ bare arm, making goosebumps rise on his skin. 

Stiles knew what was coming, so he closed his eyes and focused on the physical feeling on his skin instead of the rough breaths and growls in his ear.  

He arched into Peter when he was meant to, letting his body take over while his mind was blissfully quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy One-year-anniversary to this fic!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, commented, bookmarked, kudosed, subscribed, and generally enjoyed this fic so far ^.^ We wouldn't be here without you. Here's to another happy year :)
> 
> Also: I edited this when I’ve been up for 19 hours. I tried to catch all the mistakes, but forgive me if I missed some, this is not beta'ed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/22/15

The gentle tap on the door woke Stiles with a jolt.  The sun was hidden behind the thick clouds, and it felt early as Stiles stretched his arms over his head, expecting whoever was at the door to just walk in without waiting for his answer.

When a moment passed in silence, Stiles stood.  He quickly pulled on the sweatpants Peter threw to the floor the night before and walked to the door.   He only hesitated a moment with his hand hovering over the knob before he opened the door.

Sammy stood in front of him with her head bowed to the side, standing still like a statue with a small silver tray in her hands when he opened the door.  Her hair was pulled back in its usual tight braid that all the girls with long hair wore, and her white shirt had a small dark stain on her shoulder.

Stiles stared at her for a moment, figuring that Addie had told her to bring him breakfast. “Do you want to come in?”  He asked, stepping to the side to open the door a little wider.

The girl only hesitated for a moment before she stepped through the door, not looking up to meet Stiles’ eyes as she passed him, stopping just inside the door.

He stared at her for a moment before he quickly closed the door with a soft click.  The cold air made goosebumps rise on his exposed skin, “You can sit down, you know.”  He told her, waiting until she moved to perch on the edge of Addie’s chair with a straight, tension filled spine before he walked to the closet to put on a dark long-sleeved shirt.

When he got back into the bedroom, the girl hadn’t moved.  Her posture was filled with tension as she held the tray on her lap.  Stiles hesitated for a moment before he gently picked the remote off the stand, walking across the room to sit on the edge of the bed near the girl, always moving slowly, predictably, so he wouldn’t startle her.

Sammy stood and gently sat the tray on the bed beside him, showing him the small plate of eggs beside the normal pieces of toast, “I brought you breakfast, sir.”  She said, her voice small and frightened.  “I-if you don’t like it, sir, I can take it back and bring you something else.”

Stiles stared at her for a moment as she stared at the floor with her hands folded in front of her, waiting.  “You don’t have to call me sir, Sammy.”  He said, “Just call me Stiles.  And you can look at me.”

She shook her head, “The Alpha ordered us to call you sir,” she whispered, clearly afraid of being punished for disagreeing with him, curling further into herself and tilting her head further to the side in submission.

He stared at her for a moment before he looked around the room, “Well, I don’t see the alpha here,” he said with a small smile, “Do you?”

Slowly, Sammy looked up, smiling lightly when she met his eyes.

Stiles took a piece of toast off the stack and took a bite, making the girl smile wider before stepping back, picking a glass off the table with the bottle of wine.  He stared at her as she moved, her long dark red braid swinging across her back.  “You changed your hair.”  He observed, briefly wondering why Peter let the betas have that much freedom.

She looked up from the glass she was filling in surprise, setting the bottle back on the small table to hand him the glass with blush dusting her cheeks.  “I change the color every now and then,” she said, brushing a small lock that fell out of her braid behind her ear.

Stiles took the glass she offered with a small nod of thanks.  “It looks nice,” he said, remembering what Addie told him about making friends with the betas.  He drank as she blushed, the wine soothing the ache in his chest.

Sammy smiled, not looking nearly as stressed about being in the room as she had when she first got there.  She bowed a little as she moved to the door, “I have work to do, si-” she cut herself off before she could finish the word, glancing away for a moment before she said, “Stiles.”  She smiled to herself before she continued, “I’ll be up in a little while to get that.”  She waved her hand in the direction of the tray before she turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Stiles sat silently, letting the wine warm his chest as he held the television remote in front of him.  He slowly turned on the TV to the news station that he watched for details of his case. 

They hadn’t reported anything about him in weeks, so he didn’t expect anything now. 

He ate the food Sammy had brought him as he watched the reporter talk about the possible republican candidates for the election next year.  He mostly drowned out their voices, frowning at the small itch starting to form on his skin.

After a moment, the news changed to the weather man joking about the unusual amount of snow and low temperatures in the northwestern United States.  Stiles stood, leaving the plate on the bed as he went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He pulled the long sleeved shirt off his skin, tossing it on the floor before he looked at himself in the mirror. 

Since the first time, Stiles made it a point to not ever think about what happened.  He closed his eyes and pretended, then he woke up and saw the bruises Peter left on his hips and neck.  It was no different when he looked at his skin now.

Distantly, he knew he should be at least a little embarrassed that Sammy saw him like that.  Covered in bruises and who-knows-what else…

 He knew he should feel sick about them.  But the light purple marks on his skin only made his resolve harden, made his mind feed the fire in his blood.

He looked away from the mirror and pushed his pants off, ignoring the shiver that ran over his skin from the cold.

The water was scalding as it ran over his skin, but he didn’t adjust it.  He knew there’d be red marks on his skin, but he didn’t care.

Stiles didn’t focus on his itchy skin, he let the water wash over his body, making it almost easy to pretend he felt fine.

After he turned the shower off, he quickly got dressed.  Addie probably wasn’t going to be back that day, so Stiles walked into the closet to grab one of the pairs of shoes that lined either wall to leave the bedroom 

He tightly laced the tennis shoes and walked to the door, a small part of him still worried that he would be locked in or Peter didn’t want him to leave the room and he’d be punished for it.  He hesitated with his hand on the knob. 

With a deep breath that stuttered a little in his throat, he opened the door.

The hall was silent; the only sound was the quiet rush of the heater that blew warm air from the vents and Stiles’ quiet breath.   

He stood still for a moment, looking down both sides of the hallway.  Peter led him down the right side of the hall when he took him down to dinner… so he turned left, letting his fingertips trail along the wood paneling on the wall as he walked away from the bedroom.

He needed to learn as much as he could about the House.  There wouldn’t be much use in escaping while Peter was alive… Not if he wanted to go home.  Peter knew where he would go, so he couldn’t let the wolf live if he escaped.

When he escaped.

There were no doors leading off the hallway, so Stiles turned the corner.  A single window showed the lightly falling snow from outside and let in just enough light to not need the lights on the walls.

The only door in the hall had the same dark, shiny wood that the rest of the house had.  Stiles stopped in front of it, pulling his hand away from the smooth wall to turn the knob, frowning when it stopped with a dull click.

Stiles stared at the door in confusion. 

Why would Peter have a door locked?  What could he be hiding?

He turned down the hall, walking past the window to the door at the end of the hall.  He carefully turned the knob, half expecting to find the door locked too when the door swung open.

Something about the air in the room made him think he shouldn’t make noise. 

He should be as quiet as possible, like he was stepping into a hospital or a funeral home or a graveyard.  Like too much noise might wake whatever was sleeping there.

The walls were painted a light, spring green that was occasionally covered up with a bookshelf or pictures drawn in crayon and finger-paint, covered in dust.  A simple dark wood desk stood in the center of the far wall, facing the window to stare out at the vast landscape of trees.

There were no electric lights on the walls.  No lamps.  Nothing that would provide light except a cold candle that dripped wax on the corner of the desk and the windows with no curtains on the walls.

Stiles left the door open behind him as he walked into the room to the bookshelf.  He expected the books on the shelf to be dusty old books bound in leather with titles in languages he didn’t speak, but the colorful spines on the shelves surprised him.

The first six Harry Potter books, anthologies of poetry, Game of Thrones, and a whole shelf reserved for Anne Rice sat alongside colorful books with titles like “Royal Blood” and “The Uglies” sat on the wide shelves.  Decorations sat in front of the books, small knick knacks like a glass horse and a flower made of cloth covered in glitter.

It looked like something a teenage girl would have in her room.

Stiles carefully stepped beside the simple black desk chair, not daring to push it aside.  The only things on the desk were a large calendar, stuck on September 2006 and covered in doodles of flowers and trees, and a black picture frame decorated with foam flowers and silvery glitter that glinted in the light.

He stooped to look at the picture with his hands hovering over the surface of the desk. 

They were smiling.  A woman with pieces of her curly brown hair pinned back to the sides of her head with clips dressed in a white dress, smiling up at the man behind her.  Peter sat on the grass with the woman sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her middle, smiling at the camera.

Peter looked years younger bathed in golden sunlight.  There was no coldness in the wolf’s eyes, and the sharpness around his mouth—

He was beautiful then.

Stiles straightened his spine, trying to push away the strange feeling in his gut.  The air seemed to get thicker in the room as he quickly walked out of the room, trying not to run as he closed the door behind him with a slam.

He quickly walked back to the stairs.  He rushed down the steps, his feet thumping on the stairs, giving him something else to focus on besides the pounding of his heart.

This floor was decorated the same as upstairs, dark wood paneling and light walls with red carpets spaced along the dark wood floor.  The air was still and quiet as he walked down the hall to the first door. 

He stopped in front of the first door with his hand on the knob, turning it only to find it locked.  A door opened a short distance down the hall, making Stiles turn. 

“Addie’s out.”  Dylan said to the ground as he walked to where Stiles stood, straightening his clothes as he walked.  “And you won’t find much here.  All these doors are locked.”

Stiles stared at the angry red scratches from the wolf’s jaw to his thin lips.  

When Dylan noticed Stiles’ staring, he smiled.  The movement caused the scar to stretch across his skin.  Dylan touched the edge of one of the scars, running his fingertips over them softly, “Don’t worry, little one” he said, “they’ll heal.  My face is too pretty to be scarred forever.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Thank God for small miracles.” He said flatly.  He frowned, staring at the lines again, wondering why they hadn’t healed yet, he held his tongue before he could ask Dylan.  He could ask Addie about them later.

He looked around, “What’s in these rooms?”  He asked, gesturing to the door behind him, “bedrooms?”

Dylan nodded with a small smirk, “The ones that matter anyway.”

Stiles frowned, but didn’t respond.  He knew the betas’ mistreating those lower on their food chain was expected in the pack, but he didn’t have to like it.  He felt Dylan’s eyes on him but didn’t look back.

He didn’t hear Dylan move, but suddenly the wolf was beside him with his hand hovering over the small of Stiles’ back, not quite touching him.  “I have a little time before I’m expected downstairs,” he said, “Let me show you around.”  Dylan started to lead him down the hall, “You ought to know your way around if you’re meant to be the alpha’s mate.”

Before Stiles could tell the wolf otherwise, Dylan pointed to the room he was trying to open.  “That’s Addie’s room.”  He led Stiles further down the hall, only touching him to prompt him to move forward, pointing to doors and saying, “That’s Gideon’s room,” he leaned closer like he was telling Stiles a secret while still avoiding letting them touch, “I wouldn’t try to go in there, Gideon gets a little bitey when people try to go in his room.”

He led them further, not pausing in his tour long enough to give Stiles any chance to speak.  He pointed to a door, “That’s my room, feel free to visit me whenever you like.  I’ll only bite if you want me too.”  Stiles rolled his eyes when the wolf winked.

Better to keep silent, he told himself.  Let the wolf think he didn’t mind the flirting.  He let a small smile curve his mouth up.  The wolf at his side hated him, he knew that.  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be manipulated too.

Dylan pulled him further down the hall, not stopping as he passed three doors that were all separated by a small couch or leafy green plant, “There’s Charlie, Tyler, and Pamela’s room.”  Then he pointed down the hall around the corner.  “Adelaide’s room is down there,” his tone turned warm and fond, “Not that she ever sleeps there.”

The wolf quickly turned, his hand bumping Stiles’ back before disappearing like it burned him.  But he didn’t hesitate as he walked Stiles back to the stairs.  “Adelaide is always running somewhere or another.”  He said, “When it’s warm, she sleeps in the trees.”

There was a beat of silence and Stiles, who had stayed silent as Dylan spoke, twisted his fingers together in front of him as he walked by the wolf’s side.  “Where do the other betas sleep?”  he asked, tilting his head to the side to look inquisitive and show his pulse to the wolf.

Dylan’s eyes flicked to his neck before smiling at him, showing too many teeth.  “I’ll show you.”  He led them to the stairs. “The rooms here are all empty,” He said as they walked down the stairs.  “We would need to Turn a lot more to use this floor.”

The walls were closer there, the halls weren’t so wide, and each door stood open.  “This floor is identical to the next.”  Dylan said, showing him an empty room with plain white walls and the same dark wood floors.  The bedroom lacked the rest of the house’s expensive looking furniture, just two simple beds covered in plain white comforters sat across from each other in either corner of the room, separated by two small dressers.  The rest of the room was empty.

“If there wasn’t something about you,” he said, leaning against the wall as Stiles peered into the bedroom, “You’d sleep in a room like this.”

Stiles stopped, looking away from the Spartan bedroom to frown at Dylan, “What do you mean?”

Dylan smiled, “Or maybe it’d be your friend in here?”  He said it like a question, theorizing what would have happened if Scott had taken the place Peter planned for him.  “But, of course, if the alpha took your friend, he’d have killed you-”

“Stop.”  Stiles demanded, his voice hard and more authoritative than he’d ever used before.  “Answer my question.”  He ordered, folding his arms across his chest, “What is it about me?”

The wolf didn’t flinch from Stiles’ tone, but the smile slipped off his face.  “I didn’t mean to offend-”

Stiles interrupted him again, “Yes you did.”  Dylan frowned, “Answer my question.”

Dylan stared at him for a moment and said, “Your smell.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing, “What?”

The wolf stepped closer to him until barely an inch separated them and it took all of Stiles’ nerve to not step back.  “You smell,” he paused, breathing deeply through his nose, “ _really_ good.”  Then Dylan stepped back quickly and turned, “Addie smells better, of course, but she’s a wolf,” He said conversationally.  He turned back to smile at Stiles, who stood frozen, “There’s nothing else to see here.”  He gestured for Stiles to follow him.

After a second, Stiles followed Dylan to the stairs.  The wolf repositioned his hand hovering over Stiles’ back and led them down the stairs, passing the window with snowy treetop a few inches below the windowsill.  He couldn’t even see the Wall from this window.

A small chirping noise broke the silence between them and Dylan pulled out his phone, pulling Stiles stop in front of the window with white lacy curtains.  He stared down at the screen for a moment, then he turned away from Stiles.  “You continue with your exploring, little one.  You might find something interesting.” Then he was gone, disappearing down the stairs. 

Stiles stared after him for a moment, listening to his footsteps disappear.  When the noise faded, Stiles let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  He leaned against the wall by the window, shivering with the chill from the winter air.  He leaned forward, letting his shoulders hunch in.

Scott had told him that his sense of smell was better when he was a werewolf.  He said that he could smell Alison from across the cafeteria… maybe it was just a werewolf thing?  Humans could smell good to wolves.

Stiles rubbed at the building pressure behind his eyes and pushed away from the wall. 

This floor looked the same as the previous one, but the air was warmer, more alive, and the doors along the wall were closed.  Stiles moved forward slowly and quietly, imagining the betas behind closed doors waiting to tear him apart.

Dylan had said that the floor was identical to the previous one, so he imagined it was a bedroom, two beds with no window.  

He ignored the closed bedroom doors and turned the corner.  The long hall had every door closed, and a tall glass door that led to a large room.  He quietly walked past the closed doors and turned when the hall forked. 

There was an elegant looking stairway that, if Stiles leaned forward, he could see the entryway to the house.  The glass pieces of the door gleamed brightly in the sunlight, making his eyes sting and his head throb.  He ignored the pain and turned to the door with the deadbolt lock on it.

He opened the door and saw a large room, lined with the same weapons that were in the armory on the ground floor.  A small silver dagger caught his eye under the florescent lights.  Before he could stop himself, he plucked it off the wall, gently running his fingertips over the blade, imagining the silver stained red, hidden away until Peter fell asleep after he was done.

His heart pounded against his chest as he imagined what it would feel like to sink the blade into the soft flesh of Peter’s neck and watch him die.

A wave of nausea came over him as he imagined the warmth of blood on his hands.

He blinked, the tips of his fingers stinging with the pain of newly broken skin.  His hands shook as drops of his blood stained the blade. 

He couldn’t do it. 

No matter how much he wanted the wolf dead, he couldn’t do it like that.

The knife felt like claws in his hands.

A small gasp made him jump, the knife falling out of his trembling hands with a clatter against the tile floor.  He jumped back, facing the door, but no one was there.  He heard the sound again, like small hiccupping sobs from another room.

He quickly picked the knife up off the floor, ignoring the shallow cuts on his fingertips as he cleaned his blood off the blade with his shirt sleeve.  He put the knife back, trying to get the feeling of it off his skin.  He felt itchy and cold when he left the armory, letting the door close softly behind him. 

The door by the window at the end of the hall across from him was cracked open, letting a beam of natural light cut through the darkness of the bedroom without showing who was inside it.  As Stiles got closer, the sound was a girl crying quietly, trying to muffle the sound in her throat.

He didn’t know why she was crying, but the sound was so small and sad, it made Stiles’ chest ache in sympathy.  The girl was a wolf, she must know he’s there but he gently tapped his knuckles on the door’s dark wood anyway.

Immediately, the crying stopped, like terror made her freeze. 

He heard a shuffling from the open door before a small, shaking voice told him to come in.  He gently pushed the door open, letting the light flood in the dark room, illuminating the girl curled up on the floor with her knees on the floor and her elbows spread on the foot of the bed in front of her.

She clutched a blanket to her chest, covering as much of her naked body as she could through the torn, blood-stained fabric.  Her face was contorted around her sharp teeth and wider nose that did little to hide the tear tracks on her cheeks.  She practically tore at the small lock of short blond hair that fell into her brilliant blue eyes before she managed to tuck it behind the point of her wolf ear without cutting her skin with her claw. 

She only held eye contact for a second before she all but threw herself to the ground, bearing her neck to the extreme as she buried her face in the floor, showing Stiles the deep cuts on her boney back and wide hips, some still leaking blood onto the dark wood that wasn’t blocked by the sheet.

Stiles stared at her in shock for a moment before he stepped forward, holding his hands out to show her he wouldn’t hurt her as her wounded shoulders shook.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”  He said quietly so he wouldn’t startle the small wolf, his own voice shaking a little.  “What happened to you?”

The girl looked up, showing her scratched and tear-stained cheeks, her nostrils flared, scenting the air.  “You are the alpha’s.”  She whispered in a shaking voice before she pushed herself up from the ground, obviously straining with the effort to move through the pain.  She used the bed as a crutch to get up from the floor, not standing up fully before letting the tattered sheet flutter to the floor.

Stiles almost asked her what she was doing as she climbed on the bed on her hands and knees, meaning to give Stiles a nice view of her ass that was covered in claw marks and red stained flesh as she rested her head on her folded arms and torn pillow, leaving her hips raised to him in invitation. 

Stiles quickly looked at the wall as he heard the labored sound of her breathing through her fanged teeth.  He felt his face heating up in embarrassment before he stuttered, “I’m not- I don’t-” he huffed, and looked at the floor, scrubbing a hand on the back of his neck.  He spoke in a rush, “Please stop doing that.” 

He tried not to look at her as she relaxed her rigid posture, letting her hips fall to the side so she could curl her arms around her legs in the fetal position. 

She kept her neck bared to him as much as she could as she started to weep quietly into the pillow under her.  Before Stiles could say anything, the girl said, “Please-” in a muffled trembling voice.  “Please let me be alone.”

Stiles stood still for only a moment, staring at the wall.  His mind was blank at how to help the girl sobbing into the ruined pillow.  After a few silent seconds, he nodded and stepped back to the hall, closing the door completely behind him. 

For a few moments, he stared at her door. 

The same as all the other doors in the house, plain dark wood, polished until it shown in the natural light of the window beside him.

His back hit the wall behind him with a dull, quiet thump, and his hand covered his open mouth as he let out shuttering breaths.  Stiles’ throat tightened, hardening until he could barely breathe through the lump in his throat.

Dylan’s words echoed in his mind.  How he spoke so freely about how easily they shared their betas like warm pieces of meat to be used again and again until they were broken beyond repair.

He wanted to feel nothing.  To think nothing. 

He wanted to simply pretend that he hadn’t seen that girl with claw marks on her back and teeth marks on her neck, or the girl in the white night gown covered in snow- Natalie, he reminded himself- or the nurse covered in mud as Peter cut her throat, the blood forming around her head seemingly mixing with Natalie’s in a perfect halo around their heads.

His hand trembled against his skin.

Before he let his body betray him by falling to the floor and breaking down, he took a deep breath and held the air in his lungs until his chest burned.  He tried to push away the itchy feeling in his hands like he was still holding the knife he imagined in Peter’s neck. 

He leaned forward again, breathing until he could feel the emotions that made his stomach turn becoming more manageable.

Not absent.  Just repressed, like everything he pushed away to make Peter believe he wanted to warm his bed at night.

Distantly, he thought he needed to get more wine to soothe the ache in his stomach, but he only had a little more to explore.  He could sleep until Addie came back when he went to the bedroom.

After a moment, he stood up straight again, ready to pretend he was content for anyone he might see.

His skin felt strange.  Like new, painful and raw as the snow fell quickly, but he ignored it.  Instead, he slowly walked back down the hall like he was in some kind of dream, floating instead of walking.

He didn’t try to look in any of the rooms that were in between him and the tall glass door.  Instead, he pushed open the glass door and walked into a large, open room with six large doors leading into wide rooms with lavish furniture.

The room was lit by a large window that stretched nearly from ceiling to floor across from him, showing the fast falling snow as it covered the trees until the smaller ones nearly bent under the weight of ice and snow.

He turned, not caring to go into the rooms along either side of the extension.  He assumed they were probably more bedrooms and quickly walked back to the stairs.

Without giving it much thought, he walked down the stairs, opening the small door to the ground floor to the house just like Peter did for him every day.  Stiles never really questioned why the last set of stairs were hidden behind a wall with a door, when the other floors’ stairs were open to the air around them.

He knew the layout of the ground floor much better than the rest of the house, but he still slowly walked past the door that led to the front door to the outside world to the door that was always closed when he passed.

Stiles opened it and saw only a few steps that quickly vanished into blackness. 

He stepped back so quickly his back hit the wall behind him and his heart pounded so hard it almost hurt.  His mind flashed back to when Peter all but dragged him down into the shadows to tie bruises and blood into his skin.

He slammed the door shut, not wanting to remember any more of what happened.

Just as quickly, he moved on, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and tried his best not to think.

He looked down the hall, past where he knew Peter’s office was and to the room he knew was the armory for the ground floor, and the dining room on the other side of the hall. 

He walked through the small hall, opening the first door he got to.

The room was lit by the sun that managed to get through the clouds; it was full of comfortable looking chairs gathered around a television.  A pool table sat in the far end of the room in front of a small circular table with five chairs gathered around it where Pamela and Dylan sat reading and looked up when he walked in.

Pamela sat a newspaper down on the table as she looked up at Stiles with an unimpressed, almost bored look on her pale face.  Her blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail that made her face unpleasantly sharp and angular, “There’s nothing here to see, human.”  She said in a cold voice, flicking her paper loudly in the quiet room, “Run along.” 

She glared at Stiles as he rolled his eyes, not bothering to say anything back to her he turned, slamming the door shut behind him.  She was right; there was nothing to see and he didn’t particularly want to be in the room with Dylan again.

He walked past the door he remembered to be the training room to open the door covered in varying sizes of pink and purple stickers, butterflies and puppies as decorations all covered in glitter.

The room was obviously meant for a child’s playroom.  A large chest stood on the far wall, doll’s hair spilling over the side from under the lid and a small bookscase stood by a wall, covered in brightly colored children’s books and stuffed bears and dogs and cats.  There were board games and dvds in another shelf beside a television which was dark and quiet in the empty room.

Stiles briefly wondered where Adelaide was before he turned, closing the door behind him.  He slowly walked down the hall, walking past the doors to the dining room which stood open.  He turned the corner, opening the first one to see a room with the walls lined with bookshelves.

The only furniture in the room was a fairly large circular table with two large comfortable looking red chairs.  He slowly walked to one of the shelves and looked at the spines of the books.  They looked old, bound in cloth or leather, with elegant, faded lettering showing worn titles like _Wadsworth Anthology of Demonology,_ and _Encyclopedia Daemonica_.

He shook his head without taking the books off the shelf.  The thought of Demons didn’t even shock him now. 

The door shut behind him quietly.  The books did spark curiosity in him, however.   _The Bestiary_ Peter had given him didn’t say anything about Demons… But he left the books alone.  He could come back after he finished exploring the house and sleeping. 

He trailed his fingers along the bumpy wall as he walked to the next door in the small hall, his heartbeat loud in his ears above the silence of the house.  The door knob was cool under his grip as he twisted, pushing open the door and letting it swing to the wall behind it.

When the door was closed, he couldn’t hear anything that happened in the room.  But now that the door was open, the noise of people talking and moving around, and the occasional clang of metal on metal, was startlingly loud.

The noise cut off as soon as the door hit the wall behind it. 

Stiles hesitated before he stepped onto the first stair, looking down into the warm golden light of the kitchen.  The wall on the side of the stairwell stopped a few steps down, showing tile floors and tan countertops from the room below him. 

When he went down the steps enough to see the room, three betas stood still with their necks bowed to the side beside cooking pots, cutting boards, and stoves at the counters around the island in the center of the room.  The pots and pans hung above the island and glinted in the warm lights.

The betas stood silently as Stiles stopped at the base of the steps, staring at them for a moment.  He knew the betas were only following their alpha’s orders, but their silence was eerie.

Stiles was saved from having to say anything as the door beside the base of the stairs was pulled open and Sammy walked out with her long braid swinging behind her. 

She froze just before she bumped into Stiles, her eyes widened in surprise before she quickly turned her head to the side, showing Stiles her neck.  “I’m sorry, si-” She cut herself off before she could finish the word.  “I’m sorry, Stiles.”  She said hesitantly, like she wasn’t quite sure if she was allowed to still call him that.

Stiles heard the betas shift from their still positions with quiet inhalations of breath, glancing up from their positions of submission to glance at Sammy like she had lost the fraction of sanity any of the betas had left.

She relaxed slightly as he smiled, her posture loosening as she quickly stepped around Stiles to set a basket of potatoes beside one of the pots on the counter.

Sammy pushed a stool towards his side of the island, encouraging him to sit.

He leaned on his elbows on the counter as he watched the betas by the stoves glance at each other with confusion etched onto their faces.  As Sammy silently ran past him into the door she came through, they slowly straighten their necks so they could stare at Stiles.

Sammy ran back to Stiles so quickly he felt a breeze as she stopped beside him with a bowl of apples and bananas.  She sat the bowl in front of him on the counter and bounced back to her basket of potatoes.

Stiles felt the eyes of the betas bore into his skin.  He looked up and smiled as the other betas turned their heads to the side so quickly one of the girls’ hair whipped around her shoulders.  He stared at them for a beat of silence, Addie’s words about finding allies at the house replaying in his mind.

He willed his face into a smile, “I’m not someone to be afraid of,” he said gently.  “There’s no need to do that.”

Sammy turned around as the betas quickly glanced at Stiles then away again, keeping their heads twisted to the side to show him submission.  The girl looked from the betas to Stiles with a small frown, “It’s ok,” she said, “He’s nice.”

The betas hesitated before slowly shifting, looking up completely at Stiles and Sammy, waiting to see if Stiles would punish them for their movements. 

The thought of what these kids must have gone through to be so terrified of defying orders crossed Stiles’ mind again.  The girl on the bed upstairs, bleeding and crying as she offered herself to him, flashed in the front of his mind, stealing the breath from his lungs.

She was probably still up there, crying and bleeding.

Stiles felt his chest tighten before he swallowed past the lump in this throat.  He looked down at the bowl of fruit Sammy sat in front of him, slowly picking an apple until he could push away the image of the girl’s broken body.

He looked back up to see the betas staring at him with uncontrolled curiosity and something else that Stiles couldn’t place before they looked away, each of the three turning their heads to the side before they looked at the ground in silence.

Addie had told him that he needed to get to know the betas, find out who he could trust enough to sway to his side as quickly as possible.  To know who was against him when the opportunity arose to kill the alpha.  He couldn’t trust them if they were too afraid of the punishment to be honest.

Stiles shook himself out of thoughts.  “My names is Stiles,” He said, turning the apple over in his hands and keeping his voice light, “Please don’t be afraid of me.”  The betas shot a quick glance at him, letting their eyes linger when they saw the small, genuine-looking smile on his face. 

He didn’t let the smile slip when the three betas moved as one to look at Sammy, looking for something.  Stiles could see her out of the corner of his eye, nodding earnestly before the betas looked back at him.  The girl with long blond hair relaxed first, her body turning so she stood normally, followed by the short boy in the middle, then the small girl farthest from him.

Sammy smiled widely at them from the corner of his eye, like she was delighted that they stopped submitting to Stiles.  She stepped forward to grab a pot from the assortment above the island, her movement spurring the others to start their duties again, but slowly, like they were still worried about Stiles’ anger.

“So, S-Stiles,” Sammy stuttered out, “Are you hungry?”  She asked, quickly cutting the potato into small, bite-sized pieces.  “We’re making fish.”  She seemed to cut herself off, like she was used to letting her voice run wild before she became a wolf.

Stiles looked down at the apple he was turning in his hands, the red skin shiny enough he could practically see his reflection in the gleam, as he spoke, “not really.”  He said, staring at the small dent in the apple, the noise of the kitchen quiet under the small buzz in his ears.

Sammy didn’t say anything as she tossed the last bit of cut up potato in the pot beside her and turned a dial on the stove.   He could feel the tension in the air as the betas stood with straight backs and bowed heads over steaming pots and cutting boards.

“So,” he said, looking up from the apple in his hands to the girl with long blond hair, pulled into the usual tight ponytail, “what are your names?”

The girl with blonde hair spoke first, “I’m Isabelle, sir.”  She looked away from the tray of white meat when Sammy made a little clicking sound.  “Stiles.”  She amended quietly, returning his light smile. 

The boy who was mixing something in a big silver pot spoke, “My name is Alex” he said, carefully pushing his dark blond hair out of his eyes with his forearm.  He pointed to the small girl with red hair who stood in the corner with her head bent over a small stack of paper in the corner, “That’s Clara.”  He turned to quickly glance at Stiles before looking at the ground, “She doesn’t like to talk.”

Stiles’ brow furrowed but he didn’t question it.  The House had probably taken its toll on her.

 “Alex is an artist.” Sammy stated excitedly, still cutting potatoes into the pot.  “He’s really good.” 

Alex didn’t turn, “I am when I can get paper.”  He said in a dark tone.

Stiles spoke before Sammy could, “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a bite of the apple in his hand, ignoring the twist in his stomach and the pang of his headache.

Alex froze, like he didn’t realize what he was saying and now he’s going to be punished.  Isabelle spoke for him in a quiet voice, “We don’t get a lot of things.”  She turned and rested her hips against the counter with her arms folded over her stomach, “Paper is a commodity we don’t need.”

She sounded like she was going to go on, but Sammy didn’t let her, “Are you ok, Stiles?”  Sammy was staring at him with concern etched on her face.

He frowned and nodded.  There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow and his hands shook around the apple.  He didn’t notice before…

Sammy stepped towards him, wiping her hands on the towel beside the pot.  She didn’t touch him, her hands hovered over his arms as she looked at his skin. 

He could tell her fear was only partly for him.

If he was sick, or hurt, Peter would find out and he might hold the betas responsible.

He stood, stepping away from her small hands, trying not to blink too much when a small wave of dizziness washed over him.  “I’m fine,” He said, his knuckles turning white on the dark wood of the stairs railing.

Sammy walked towards him again, “Maybe you should lie down?”

He nodded.  “I can make it up stairs by myself,” He said before she could argue, he started walking up the stairs, the warm air still swirling around his head and his mind blissfully blank.

When he opened the door, the hot air rushed out, freezing the light sheen of sweat on his face and making him shiver.

Stiles had a death grip on the rail at the side of the stairs.  The fresh, cold air on the ground floor of the house cleared the strange dizziness from his mind and drew his attention to the door beside him. 

It was the only door he hadn’t opened yet.

He opened the door before he could tell himself that he should go back upstairs, pushed it open until the knob hit the wall with a dull bang.  The light beamed down the stairs around him, turning the white wall on one side of the stairs a dull gold and illuminated a square of the concrete floor at the base of the stairs, leaving the rest of the room in grey shadow.

He moved slowly, the silence too thick, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with each step.  He kept one hand on the wall to feel for the light switch he knew wouldn’t be there.

When he got to the circle of light on the concrete floor, he heard movement above him, like the betas were moving around with their heels clicking on the floor not covered by carpets. 

There was no sound in the basement.

There was no whir of the heater in the room, so the air was so cold Stiles could almost see his breath fog in the air.  He stepped forward, edging closer to the darkness, straining his eyes to see something.

He could feel the size of the room around him, his small steps practically echoed around him as he walked a few feet … but he wasn’t alone.

The air was too still. 

The room was too silent. 

A sub-vocal growl rumbled from across the room, making him freeze.  There was a small clink, like metal softly hitting metal, and two small sparks of blue appeared out of the darkness at the other end of the room. 

He backed up further when the two glittering sparks stalked towards him.  His mind was silent as he moved more quickly, backing towards the stairs until the backs of his ankles hit the bottom stair.

The air rushed out of Stiles’ lungs as his back hit the sharp stairs.  The beta growled, the eyes lurching forward before stopping just short of the circle of light with a loud clang of metal on metal, like there were chains on the wolf that kept it back, pulling it down to the darkness with a whine.

Stiles scrambled back when the beta growled, the sound rumbled his chest.  In the next second the sound of snapping metal filled the room and made Stiles’ blood turn cold.  He scrambled to get up the stairs, turning to get to his feet as the beta grabbed his ankle.

He was pulled back, towards the darkness, his skin on his knees scraping along the stairs.

Blind panic chilled him to the core, making his movements sloppy as he tried to grab onto anything to get away.  The claws cut his skin to keep its grip, drawing blood and making him cry out.

Kicking out, Stiles pulled against the claws tried to get up, but the beta moved up, pinning him to the ground with the weight of its body and claws pushing his shoulder hard enough to add to the scattered bruises on his skin.  When he felt the beta sniff at his neck and press sharp teeth to his skin, he froze.

The beta would sink its fangs into his jugular.  He’ll die in that basement.

A loud roar filled the room and made the beta pull up enough to crouch over him and growl.  Stiles shifted, as gently as possible so he wouldn’t attract the betas attention, so he could see who was at the top of the stairs.

Addie stood, a shadow with skirts fanned out around her.  She growled again and jumped down the stairs, landing silently a few inches from them. 

The beta pushed its clawed hand to the back of his neck, nails biting into his skin when he tried to move, drawing a small sound of pain that Stiles tried to stop.

“Let go of him,” Addie said, her words slurred around her sharp wolf teeth.  “I know you are hungry but he is not yours.”  Her voice was cold, angry and empty.

The wolf above him continued growling, crouching over him, pressing him to the cold concrete so hard it hurt.   Addie stayed still, waiting to see what the beta would do.

After half a second of growling and snapping, the wolf jumped towards Addie.

Stiles scrambled away from the circle of light and fighting wolves until his back hit the wall shrouded in darkness, his hand going up to the bloody claw marks on his neck.  He watched Addie fight the beta—a small girl with tattered clothes and tangled greasy hair.  She was sickly looking, deathly thin and wild as she scratched and bit at Addie with frenzied movements.

Addie moved so quickly she was a blur to his human eyes.  She quickly grabbed both of the betas hands and swept her legs out from under her.  The girl dropped to the floor hard and Addie dragged her into the darkness, their gleaming eyes showing where Addie took them.

The clink of metal on metal sang around the room, barely audible over the beta’s growling and snapping.  The sound of a punch landing on skin stopped the growling.

Addie muttered in a language he didn’t understand as she came toward him.  She didn’t say anything as she grabbed him with a tight grip around his wrists.

He’d never seen Addie’s beta form before.  Her hands were still claws as they fluttered over Stiles’ skin, still muttering.  Her eyes glowed bright blue as she searched for serious injury.  When she found the claw marks on his neck, she stopped.

She turned to look back at the beta who was hidden silently in the darkness.  His eyes had started to adjust so he could see the shadow of her face as she growled at the beta.  “Are you alright?”  she asked, gently pressing her fingertips to the shallow teeth marks on his neck.

Stiles said nothing as he stared at where the blue eyes disappeared in the darkness.  When his neck started to tingle, he flinched away from her hands taking his pain.  It didn’t hurt. 

Addie kept her hands off him, hovering like she was surprised and a little hurt at his movement.  After half a second, Addie grabbed his chin with a tight grip, making him look at her. 

Stiles could feel her lean forward, her face inches from his.  The spark in her eyes distracted him from pulling away from her closeness.

She said something he didn’t hear.  The buzzing in his ears was too loud.  He stared at her, frowning as the world shook around him. 

“Stiles!”  Her shout startled him, making him jump.  “I said how much have you drank?”  Her voice was intense and too loud in his ears.

It took him a bit longer to remember then it probably should have.  But eventually, he answered her, “Just one glass this morning.”  He said, leaning back against the wall and listening to the too-fast flutter of his heartbeat in his ears.

Addie grabbed Stiles under the arms and lifted him up, pulling him to his feet and letting him lean on her as she hummed the soothing little song that made the buzzing in Stiles head quiet down so he could focus on getting up the stairs without injuring himself.

When they got upstairs, the sudden shift of light made Stiles squint.  Addie led him back to the staircase up to the bedroom, walking slowly and humming.

The sound of a door opening made Addie suddenly stop.  She stepped away from Stiles, her hands hovering over Stiles’ shoulders before disappearing when Dylan and Pamela walked out from the room with the pool table. 

Dylan looked at the blood on Stiles’ neck and laughed.

“Did you not tell Stiles about the Cell?” Addie asked quietly, her voice sharp and calm.

Dylan glanced at Pamela who was standing beside him with a small smile on her face.  “Must have slipped my mind,” He said, showing too much teeth.

Stiles leaned back against the wall as Addie moved closer to Dylan.  She was barely a foot away from him when she lurched forward, swinging her fist around so fast she was a blur, and Dylan was on the ground.

Pamela jumped back in surprise before she fell to the ground beside Dylan, soothing him with a hand on his chest and a glare at Addie.

Addie stared down at them, “Next time.”  She said, her icy voice making Stiles shiver, “Don’t _ever_ forget your orders, do you understand?” 

Dylan wiped blood off his chin and glared up at her before he nodded.

Addie turned back to Stiles, taking his arm in hers to lead him again, but she stopped.  She turned her head to call over her shoulder, “The alpha will hear about this.”  She pulled him along, humming her little tune again.

Before he knew it, he was back upstairs in the bedroom, leaning against the bookshelf as Addie pushed a glass into his hands and told him to drink.  He drank slowly, letting the wine cool his too hot skin and sink to the floor, curling around himself in the corner between the bookshelf and the wall.

Addie sat beside him, leaving the empty cup on the floor.  She rested her head against the wall and said, “I should clean your wounds,” her strange accent lilting her words.

Stiles was silent as his mind settled.  He didn’t know—or care really—about what happened while Addie was gone.  Too much had happened, he was tired.

Addie moved, turning towards him and pulling a small envelope out of her sleeve.   She held it out to him silently with a small frown on her face.

He took the envelope and opened it, not bothering to speak.  Stiles’ hands shook when he pulled the Polaroids out of the envelope and let the envelope flutter to the floor.  He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood, as he carefully studied the picture of his living room window at home. 

Everything looked the same, maybe a little darker with empty cups and take out containers on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

His dad wasn’t eating right—the thought made Stiles’ heart clench and tears prick at his eyes.  He was sitting at the couch, staring down at papers spread along the table.  He couldn’t see his face; it was hidden in his hand, just like what Stiles did.

He flipped to the next picture.  It was morning, barely lit except for the porch light above Scott and his mother’s head.  Scott had his back pack on; he must be going to school.   And Mrs. McCall was dressed in light blue scrubs and a tired look on her face. 

They look like they haven’t slept in days.

He carefully flipped to the next picture.   This one was much lighter than the others; afternoon sun gleamed on Lydia’s fiery red hair.  She was walking towards the parking lot at the school, her hair fluttering out behind her as she walked, one arm extended in front of her and the other wrapped tightly around the strap of her purse.  The picture of confidence.

The next picture was also bright.  Allison stood with an old man with white hair and a half smile that sharply contrasted with the tears in Allison’s eyes.  Each were dressed in solid black, like they came from a funeral.

He flipped to the next picture, stacking them neatly, one behind the other, in his hand.  This picture was warmer; the sun was almost setting, making the sky blood red with brilliant streaks of fluffy white clouds over-head.  Scott looked angry.  He was standing with Derek and a boy with curly hair and a sour look on his face, leaning forward and pointing like he was yelling.

The next picture was the outside of the Sheriff’s station.  His dad leaned against the wall with a guy in a deputy uniform who didn’t look older than 20.  His dad’s uniform was wrinkled, but he was smiling.

Stiles stared at the picture in his hands, frowning when tears started to fall.  Addie shifted beside him but he didn’t look at her.  His breath came in a shaky gasp when he opened his mouth to speak.  “I can’t do this Addie.”  He said quietly, holding his legs closer to his chest.

Addie sighed, not unkindly, like she was hurting too.  “Yes you can.”  She whispered, “You don’t know how strong you are yet.”

Stiles held the pictures to his chest, leaning his back against the wall again and looking at the woman beside him.  “I want to go home.”  He hated how small his voice was, like he was a child again, crying over helplessness.

Addie moved forward, pulling him close to her, holding his shoulders tightly and letting him hide his face in her hair.  “I know, darling.  I know.”  She kept her arms tight around him as he tried not to cry.  Addie gently ran her fingers through his short hair soothingly.  “This is not fair, or right,” she was quiet and her voice sounded strange, like she wasn’t just speaking to him.  “But we have to stay strong now.” 

Stiles hissed in pain when she tightened her hug and brushed against the bite on his neck.  When he made the noise, she flinched away. 

Addie grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away to look at the mark on the side of his neck.  With a little click, she pulled the small box out of her sleeve, opened it, and pulled out a clean, white cloth.

She gently wiped the blood away from his neck, ignoring the blood on his shirt.  By then, he’d stopped bleeding, but it still stung when she gently cleaned his skin.  She winced when he winced, and carefully dabbed the tingly oil on his skin and taped a clean white bandage across the side of his neck.

“You never told me what that is.”  He said distantly, trying not to itch at the bandage.

She looked up at him with a small smile as she put the tiny bottles in their place.  “I can teach you if you like?”  She sounded excited, like she has always wanted to do it, but she still phrased it like a question.

Stiles nodded and she moved to his leg, pushing the pant leg up over the cuts.  Stiles leaned back and tried to ignore the discomfort as she cleaned the blood, allowing himself to fade into the routine of it.  He kept his eyes closed as she put more of the oil on his skin, ignoring the tingles as he tried to breathe until his heartbeat slowed back down again. 

Addie was silent while she worked, but he could feel her eyes on him.  When she was finished wrapping his ankle, she moved back up to sit beside Stiles with a rustle of her skirt.  They sat silently, listening to the whistle of the wind from the window before Addie spoke.

“I know it may not seem like it, Stiles.”  Addie said quietly, like she was worried about breaking the spell of silence and calm in the room.  “But praying helps.”

Stiles’ eyes snapped open, he looked at her in surprise for half a minute before he scoffed and said, “I haven’t prayed in years.”  He let his head fall back against the wall, but he didn’t close his eyes.

Addie smiled a small, unhappy smile, “What better time than now to start?”

He pursed his lips.  The last thing he prayed for- “What do you pray for?” 

Addie frowned and took a deep breath in through her nose.  “I pray for guidance,” she said after a moment.

Before she could say anything else, her head snapped up and she stood, pulling Stiles to his feet and setting him on the bed so fast it made his head spin.  She sat in her chair by the bed and managed to look relaxed just as the door opened.

The door smacked against the wall with a bang and Peter was suddenly in front of him before he had time to flinch at the noise.  He couldn’t stop himself from tensing and letting out a small gasp of pain when Peter grabbed his chin and pushed his head to the side to show the bandage Addie put there.  He leaned away from Peter, but he didn’t try to jerk out of the wolf’s grip.

With a low growl, Peter released Stiles’ chin. 

Stiles stayed silent, slowly raising his hand to rub the ache out of his jaw as Peter stalked away with a hand on his hip and a hand running through his hair.

“It was not her fault, Peter.”  Addie said, looking at the ground, but speaking with an authoritative air in her posture, with her hands folded on her lap.

Peter turned on her.  “No, it’s your fault.”  Addie looked up with a blank face.  “You were in charge of protecting him and you failed.”

Stiles wanted to defend her, but before he could speak, Addie stood, “I-” She cut herself off with a small, sharp cry as Peter slapped her across the face with a sickening dull sound.  Addie fell to the floor, her hair fanning out around her as she caught herself with an elbow on the hard floor.

She looked up at Stiles and shook her head minutely.  He realized he stood when she was hit.  Slowly, trying to control himself, he sat back down on the edge of the bed.

“It won’t happen again.”  Peter said, smoothing the wrinkles from the sleeve of his dark green shirt.  “You may go,” He said when he turn from Addie towards the bed.

Addie slowly got her feet and quickly glanced at Stiles with a small smile through the red mark on her cheek and walked out the door with a small bow.

Stiles tried to control the yawn, but the events of the day were too much to bear.  He glared at the wall beside the bookshelf and folded his arms across his chest.

Peter quickly unbuttoned his shirt and through it over the chair Addie left, his bare stomach at Stiles’ eye level.  He crouched in front of Stiles and carefully lifted the hem of the boy’s shirt, frowning when Stiles didn’t lift his arms for the wolf.  “What’s wrong?”

Stiles didn’t speak until Peter took his chin gently and made him look at the wolf.  “You hit Addie,” he said simply, keeping his tone light enough to make sure Peter wouldn’t be angry, but firm enough to show his anger.  “She’s my friend.”

Peter sighed and let go of Stiles’ chin.  “She let you get hurt, Stiles.”

“She wasn’t even here.”  Stiles said, loosening his arms, but keeping them across his chest, and looked up through his lashes.  “Dylan was supposed to warn me about the girl in the basement but…” he trailed off, ignoring the way he had to speak of the thin girl in the basement like it’s a normal thing.  Like she meant nothing.

Stiles saw Peter’s jaw clench in the corner of his eye. 

The wolf sighed, “I’ll deal with Dylan later.”  He frowned when Stiles didn’t move.  “If it were anyone else,” Peter said, “I wouldn’t do this.”  Stiles looked up fully, “I’ll apologize to her.  Would that make you happy?”

Stiles smiled and nodded, letting his arms fall to the bed so Peter could pull his shirt over his head.

He didn’t move until Peter walked around the bed and pulled Stiles down to lie under the covers with him.  Peter pulled him back so his bare back was against his chest, too-warm and meant to be comforting.

When Stiles settled more comfortably in the bed, he made himself relax in Peter’s arms and let his mind wander.

Under different circumstances, he would love this. 

Lying like this with another person. 

Warm and safe and protected, in bed without having to worry about anything in the world.  

He could finally sleep without thinking.

But now, with Peter-

He’s tainted.  He could never sleep like this with anyone else without thinking about Peter’s touch on his skin, his-

Stiles had to stop thinking like that. 

Especially with Peter pressed against his back, feeling his heart beat-

Part of him knew he wouldn’t survive the house, so what was the point of thinking about the future anyway?

The wolf shifted behind him. “Stiles,” Peter said, drawing his attention away from the wall in his field of vision.  “A very powerful person is coming to the pack soon.”

“Who?”  He asked, twisting back to look in Peter’s direction with wide eyes.   “Why?”

“Some bureaucrat heard about us.”  Peter said, toying with the bandage on the boy's neck.

Stiles’ breath hitched in pain when the tape pulled at his skin.

“The Counsel is sending a representative to make sure we’re not breaking their laws.”  Something in the way Peter spoke, some thinly veiled threat of violence, made the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck raise up and he fought a shiver.

Peter pulled Stiles closer to his chest, pressing one hand to Stiles’ chest and leeched the last residue of pain and discomfort from the boy.

“Counsel?”  He asked, letting Peter stroke up his stomach, pretending to let the touch sooth his nerves.

“The werewolf authority.”  Peter said with scorn.  “They are the ones who make the laws and write the codex.”

Stiles nodded, he hadn’t read the codex yet.  It sat on the shelf, gathering dust. 

Briefly, he wondered if the representative would know him.  If they would have watched the news stories that were about him.  If they would know that Stiles wasn’t there by his own free will.

The thought didn’t bring him comfort like it should. 

Deep in his gut, he knew that, even if they knew about him, they wouldn’t help. 

Why would they?

“He’ll be here tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the hiatus, here's an 11k word chapter to make it up to you. I have had a pretty shitty year so far, but I'm working on getting over the slump. Bear with me, I can't promise regular updates. But I can promise to never give up on this fic :)
> 
> Thanks to Notenufcaffiene on Tumblr for being an awesome beta and making this chapter not suck so completely, any mistakes are my own.
> 
> P.S.  
> This is the half way point of act one, both chapter wise and plot point wise, yay us :D
> 
> P.P.S.  
> Don't forget to read the end notes first if any of the tags could be triggering.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/27/15

“Stiles…”  Addie stretched out his name, her strange, lilting accent singing him awake.  Very slowly, Stiles blinked open his eyes to see her face floating in a sea of blurry morning light above him.

He groaned and turned on his side away from her, pulling the warm blankets over his head.

“Stiles, I thought you wanted to learn?”  She prompted quietly, enticing him to get up and leave his cocoon of warmth.  When Stiles groaned again, she huffed.  She didn’t say anything else.

Instead, she grabbed the blankets near his feet and pulled, yanking the soft sheets out of his hands and leaving him shivering with his bare chest exposed to the air.  “The representative will be here this afternoon, we should begin now.”

Stiles rolled onto his back and wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to keep in the warmth.

Addie walked into the closet and walked back out a moment later with a simple long-sleeved dark shirt in her hands.  She tossed it to Stiles’ arms as he stretched them over his head, making him flail up at the sudden darkness.

“Get dressed,” she said, “Shower if you want.  Be ready in 15 minutes.” Then she was gone with a swish of skirts.

Stiles pushed himself up on his elbows and stared after her.  He shook his head—she was such a strange person.

He groaned again, wanting to go back to sleep so he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever mess that the representative would bring—Stiles couldn’t imagine a scenario where the situation ended well for him—but he pushed himself into a sitting position anyway. 

Stiles rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders and slowly stood, breathing a sigh of relief when his mind was silent.

He slowly walked to the bathroom, taking the bandages off his shoulder to see shiny pink marks where the cuts had been on his skin.

The boy only stood under the shower’s spray for a few minutes, quickly scrubbing at his skin while keeping his mind silent, before he stepped out again, shivering in the cool air before he toweled himself off.

He couldn’t help but think of what may happen when the Representative got there.  He wondered if Peter would even let him meet them, or if he would make Stiles stay upstairs so he wouldn’t say anything stupid.

Peter was smart enough to know what he _could_ say.  He knew that Stiles could “accidentally” say something and hurt whatever the wolf had planned.  If the Representative found out about the broken laws, they would _all_ be killed.

And the wolves were obviously breaking laws; he seriously doubted keeping the betas chained, starved, and beaten was legal.

The simple sweater Addie handed him was barely thick enough to keep him warm in the chilly air, but it was comfortable and easy to move in.  The sweat pants she had given him were the same material, darker, loose, and almost baggy before he tied the drawstring more tightly around his waist.

He didn’t know how Addie was going to train him—everything he understood (from movies mostly) pointed to needing some kind of magical ability to be able to do the things Addie does with that oil. 

Gently, he touched the fading mark on his shoulder and felt only warm, new skin.

He shook his head and stepped out of the bathroom.   Addie was sitting in her chair by the bed staring out into the dull sunlight from the cloud-covered sky.  He stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

Stiles had never seen her in anything other than the dresses that fanned out around her legs and hid the skin on her arms and made her look like she was something out of a history book about ancient English royalty.

Now, she sat on her chair by the bed with her legs crossed and arms stretched out to both armrests on the chair, making her small frame look even smaller.  She was pale, long legs stretched out in front of her with a pair of deep black leggings covering from just under her knee to her waist.  A simple black tank top showed her bare arms covered in thick black symbols that twisted around her skin like snakes.  He didn’t recognize any of the shapes the marks made.

Stiles stared at her for a moment before he blinked and continued into the room.  “I didn’t think you owned any other clothes.”

Addie turned to him with a wide smile, “Where I come from,” she said, “We hide our skin when we are with our enemies.”  She stood, her hair falling around her shoulders.  “You are not my enemy.”

Stiles dropped his towel to the floor by the door, “So there are no more ‘enemies’ here?”  He asked, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest

She shook her head, “Downstairs, all of them.”  She smiled, “We are the only souls here.”  She opened the bedroom door, “Come on, Stiles.  We should begin training, there’s not much time.”

Without waiting for Stiles to respond, she walked out into the hallway and left the door open behind her, like she knew he would follow.  Which he did, of course.

The curiosity about Addie’s magic was pulling him after her like a magnet. 

She said he could learn it, and he felt the spark of interest that he hasn’t felt in years—stronger even than when Scott got bit.  He all but ran after her, closing the door to the bedroom behind him. 

They didn’t say anything as they walked downstairs to her bedroom.  As he walked, he thought about how much he didn’t know about Addie.  She was constantly talking about him—his future, his ability—but never about herself.  She was an enigma.

She turned with her hand on the knob, “You have no reason to think that what I teach you gives you any obligation to continue learning.”  She said seriously.  “If you want to stop, I will stop teaching you.  Do you understand?”

Stiles nodded, and she pushed open the door. 

The smell of herbs washed out of the room like a tidal wave of spicy scent from the dark.  Addie’s curtains were left open, leaving barely enough light to bring the walls out of dusky shadow.

The room was massive—but still smaller than the room upstairs—and very strange.   The walls were a deep, dark blue with dark wood floors that made the room seem to almost completely absorb the light from the beams of dull sunlight before it could reach the corners.

Strings stretched across the walls on one side of the room, each one dangling five or six bundles of drying plants.  On the other side of the room, beyond the bed, was a low dark brown table with piles of odds and ends—like sea shells and feathers—and five wax-dripped candles of different colors in a small circle.  At the center of the circle of candles was a fairly large black bowl that could only be described as a small cauldron, like from the old movies about witches.

Addie was watching him carefully as Stiles stepped closer to the table and saw symbols drawn on the floor with white chalk.  He looked back to Addie—and the marks on her skin—and then back to the floor.  He recognized some of the symbols as the ones she had tattooed on her skin.

“Careful.”  Addie said when he took another step to the circle on the floor.  “A good rule of thumb, Stiles: Never cross symbols you don’t know.”  She walked over to his side, “This is just a simple protection circle.”  She looked up from the chalk marks to take his elbow, “For all you would have known, those symbols could have taken the air from your lungs until you suffocated and died.”

She spoke so sincerely—without a trace of doubt in her voice—that it made Stiles reevaluate the chalk marks.  He still didn’t recognize them, but they didn’t _feel_ bad—

He was so lost in the white chalk he barely noticed her take him to the chair at the corner of the room closest to the table. 

“I know you haven’t read the books I gave you.”  She said as she walked away from him to gather things into a small box from the table, “So we should start from the beginning.”  She sat in front of him on the floor inside the circle with her legs crossed, “Relax.”  She held a lighter to the wick of a simple light purple—almost white—candle.  When the flame took on the wick, she held the tip of the incense in the fire of the candle, waiting until a thin line of smoke stretched to the ceiling to blow out the flame on the incense.

Stiles forced himself away from the marks on the floor to make his body loose.  Before he could say anything, Addie spoke again, “My family is a magical family.  My mother was the strongest Priestess in our _polis_ ,” at his questioning look, she waved her hand, “ah- town.  She taught me all she knew.”

He was silent as he listened to her speak.  Her voice was quiet, the accent—Greek, his mind supplied—appeared when she spoke of her mother.

“I am not as strong as my family.  If my mother and father had been the same, it would be different.”  She pursed her lips, “But they weren’t.”  She leaned forward and took a book off the edge of the low table.

When she handed it to him, he felt the shiny purple cover was soft and felt like cloth.  “A book of potions,” Addie said.  “Anyone can make a potion; it is a wonderful place to start.”

Stiles looked down at the book in his hands, he carefully opened the cover only to have it snapped shut again.  When Stiles looked up at Addie, she smiled.  “Not yet,” She said, her smile straining for a moment.  “Get on the floor.”

She spoke with such conviction—like she was used to giving orders—that it took a moment for Stiles to respond to her.  He blinked when she laughed and shifted into a looser stance.  “Come sit with me.”  She said, quieter, her voice less of an order.

“Why?” Stiles asked as he slipped down on the floor beside her, hesitating only a moment before crossing the marks on the floor to sit at the edge of the circle.

Addie sat with her legs crossed on the floor and carefully placed her hands palm up on her legs.  “Do what I do.  We need to meditate.” 

Stiles carefully mimicked her posture, leaving his hands resting on his knees, palm down, when Addie picked up the stick of incense between her fingers, weaving it around the air between them before she replaced the stick to its holder.   “To connect and focus, you understand.”  She said quickly, looking up from the smoke to meet his gaze.

He didn’t really, but it made sense so he nodded, and she smiled.  Slowly, she pushed her hands forward so they hovered, palm up, over the space between them, “Give me your hands, Stiles.”  Addie was quiet, she spoke with intensity that made Stiles lean forward.  “It is very important that you do what I say.”  Then she smiled sweetly, like she was talking to a child, “And try not to ask too many questions.  Everything will be clear in time.”

Stiles hesitated before he slowly reached out so his palms rested against her smaller ones.  Her skin was pleasantly warm, making him realize how cold he must have been. 

She moved one hand from his and held the smoky incense stick under his hands, making smoke get trapped under his palms, turning his skin just shy of too warm.  “Breathe, and close your eyes.”  She whispered, her voice making him want to listen to her as she replaced the incense stick on the holder again and returned her hand to his.

Before he gave himself permission, his eyes slipped closed. 

The smoke made the room have a simple feel to it—elemental and calming in a way that should have never had anything to do with that House.   He breathed it in, slowly, the warmth spreading from his palms all across his body, almost too warm as a steady pulse beat through his body.

Something shifted in the air.  It felt like his blood was tingling as it moved through his veins, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.  It made him feel light. Her fingertips pressed against the veins on his wrist, feeling the slow beat of his heart.

Addie was murmuring under her breath, too low for him to be able to hear, but he felt the flow of her words wash over him, slowing his heart rate and relaxing his muscles until he felt like he was floating—with the only tether to the real world held under his palms.

A few silent seconds later, Stiles opened his eyes. 

Addie was smiling widely at him—practically beaming—with her palms holding his hands up, still warm from the incense smoke.  “How do you feel?”  She asked, gently lowering their hands without turning his palms over.

Stiles blinked in the brilliant gold early afternoon light.   He felt good—better than he had since before he watched Kate Argent die in that fire.  He looked around the room, too calm and blank to really speak yet. 

The incense Addie placed in a holder on the edge of the table was a small, smoldering nub over a line of ash and the candle looked like a bowl of liquid wax.  He blinked again, confused.  “How long did we meditate, Addie?”  His voice was scratchy and rough.

The woman’s smile got wider, “if I had to guess.”  She said, sounding more at ease than anytime Stiles had seen her.  “Three hours.  Probably more.  How do you feel?”  She asked again.

Stiles stared at her.  He had never in his life been able to be relaxed and sill for three hours.  “I’m good.”  He said slowly, pulling his hands away from hers.  The smoke that he’d assumed dissipated soon after she put the incense on the table quickly floated up to the ceiling, thicker and bigger than when Addie held the stick under his palm. 

One cloud—once under his left hand—floated up a brilliant emerald green, and the other—under his right palm—floated up to the ceiling with a strange mix of swirls of brilliant sunlit gold and soft moonlit silver.

He watched with wide eyes as they floated to the ceiling and vanished before he blinked.  Addie hadn’t stopped smiling at him.

“I think that will be enough for the day, we don’t have time for anything else.”  Addie said quietly as she stood, stretching her arms over her head and shaking out her hair.

Stiles shook his head—the smoke must have caught the light wrong—before he stood too, his muscles still relaxed and ache free, despite having sat in the same position for hours.  “We didn’t _do_ anything.”  He muttered under his breath, knowing that Addie could hear him as clearly as if he had yelled it.

Addie walked over to the wall with drying herbs and opened a cabinet set beside the closet that stood open, showing the long row of different colored dresses, all hanging to the floor.  She turned back around with a bottle of her wine in her hands and her smile still firmly in place.  “Drink?”  She asked, holding up the bottle.

Stiles nodded, his thoughts drifting around him like the smoke in the air and his skin tingling still.  He desperately wanted to know more, to learn more, but he didn’t ask.  Something told him that, even if he did ask, Addie would only get that look in her eye—that look that said she was holding something back. 

She said she would teach him, he just had to be patient, and he wanted to trust her—she was the only one in the House he _could_ trust.

He walked over to the wide window and leaned against the thick curtain aside to look out.  It had stopped snowing, so he could see the gate from the window, far below him where the large group of betas stood in four neat lines in the large patch of snow covered grass.

He could see Peter standing in front of them, his posture screamed dominance and power in front of the crowd who seemed afraid they were taking up too much space.  The alpha stood with his chest bare against the cold that Stiles could feel through the glass.

Somehow, he knew that Peter was speaking, even though the wolf stood still and he faced away from him.  The betas moved as one and stepped back, forming a small semi-circle in front of Peter.

Addie appeared behind him with a small glass of wine, “Training.”  She said flatly, “For the first time since more than most were Turned.”

Stiles watched two wolves step forward with their heads bowed, “He doesn’t normally train them?”  He asked, taking a long drink from is glass, “What makes today different?”

“The chance of survival in this pack is not very high for a beta, Stiles.  Training them all would take too much time.”  She said, drinking her wine, “The Counselor makes today different.”  They watched the betas attack each other with their alpha walking in a wide circle around them.  “Say what you will about Peter, but he is not stupid.  The Counselor could bring down an army more powerful than any pack he could create in such a short time.”

The betas moved aside when neither won and two new ones took their place.  He recognized the short platinum blond hair from the crying girl that had once been downstairs.  She was small, much smaller than the beta she was meant to fight.

“You need to be careful, Stiles.”  Addie said, walking away from the window.

“Do you ever get tired of saying that?”  He asked flatly, leaning his head against the cold glass, “Because I get tired of hearing it.”

Addie ignored him and spoke again.  “The Counsel is divided about humanity.  Some like the idea of living with humans who know us, and our potential.  For them, humans are either equals or slaves, it depends on the wolf.”  She took a breath and leaned back on her hand behind her on the bed.  “Then there are more who think Humans are stupid and should not know us.  Their knowledge would only lead to open war against us.”

He didn’t look away from the girl on the lawn outside as the bigger beta approached her and she fell back.  “Which side is the Counselor on?”  He asked as Peter called the fight off with a wide wave of his claw.

“I don’t know.  We were not allowed to know which Counselor is visiting.”  She paused, maybe taking a drink from her cup before she said, “Either way, it does not matter.  Whatever the Counselor wants needs to be approved by the rest of them.  He will ask you questions.”  She said seriously, “He, no doubt, has heard the news of the human Sheriff in California’s son that was taken by an alpha wolf.”

Stiles flinched but said nothing.  It looked like Peter was yelling at the little beta who was still on her back below him.

“If he finds out that you did not choose to come here, Stiles.”  She said, her tone deadly serious as Peter stalked towards the girl who hid her face in her hands.  “They won’t care enough to save you when they bring their army.”

A sleek silver car appeared at the gate as Peter blurred when he descended on the girl, jerking her arm away from her face. 

He couldn’t tell if he could actually hear her screaming from behind the glass or if he could see her wide pain-filled mouth open in a scream and filled in the blanks when Peter snapped her arm around. 

He turned away from the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Addie was one happy camper that day. :)
> 
> My beta, Notenufcaffiene edited this for me, and gave some wonderful advice that I didn’t take. So if this chapter sucks, blame me.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the chapter :D


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/31/15

The girl held her arm to her chest and rolled onto her stomach, pressing herself into the snow underneath her and hiding her face in her short blonde hair as Peter stepped over her.  The gate opened and a sleek silver car drove right past the beta on the ground without even slowing down. 

The bed creaked as Addie push herself up.  She peered over his shoulder, watching as the car parked just at the edge of the window, “Close the curtain.”

Stiles didn’t move. 

He watched the girl lie on the ground.   Peter stood tall in the snow beside her with his hands behind his back as the car door opened. 

They were too far away to clearly see the driver’s features, but he wore a dark, unassuming suit and curled slightly to Peter before practically running around the car to open the back door.

An old man with white hair and a dark blue suit stepped into the snow.  He strode to Peter and held his hand out to shake.

Stiles could almost see the anger that rolled through the muscles of Peter’s back as he shook the Counselor’s hand.

He could feel the tension in the air as Addie all but shoved him out of the way and shut the curtains herself.  The darkness was pitch black after staring out at the sunlit snow.

Addie tapped a small lamp on the table as she pulled the incense nub out of the holder and dropped it into the metal bowl.  The still smoldering stick sent a little hiss of thick white smoke to the ceiling. 

Her hair covered her shoulders, and her back was to him, but tension rolled through her movements as she picked up a stack of carefully folded clothes on the chair.

“Is it really that bad?”  He asked.

Addie straightened and pursed her lips.  She took a deep, hissed breath through her teeth, “It could be better.”   She handed him the dark clothes, “But we have to deal with him now.”

Without pause, she strode to the closet where her rainbow of dresses hung and pulled a simple dark burgundy dress with a thin shiny silver band that looped around the waist off a hanger.

Stiles watched her movements, hurried but methodical, and tried to ignore the twist of fear in his gut.  If this went wrong, he would die—

“Stop thinking.”  Addie said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “Get dressed.”

He nodded and took a calming breath.  He quickly changed the warm sweat pants for soft, dark grey suit pants.  His shirt was a lighter shade of grey, button up and soft like Peter’s shirts were.  It all fit perfectly.

Addie went back to her rushing, throwing the dress on the bed with a flutter and pulling the black tank top over her head with the same flowing movement.  “Remember Stiles,” she said as she dropped the tank top to the floor, leaving her in nothing but leggings and a bra, “The Alpha’s mate is your role to play.” The black tattoos on her arms traveled along her back, but left her stomach bare. 

Stiles said nothing. 

He liked to think that, under different circumstances, he would have been surprised—or embarrassed—at them changing clothes in front of eachother.

He was a teenager after all.

But circumstances weren’t different.

She flipped the dress around until she could unzip the zipper in the back.  “You play wonderfully with Peter,” She said quickly, almost absent-mindedly, her back still to him as she bunched the end of the dress until she could slip it over her head, “But the Counselor would not hesitate to kill you if you aren’t believable completely.”  She held her arms over her head as the fabric fell into place around her, “Be a darling and zip up my dress.”  She said sweetly, moving her long black hair to the side, showing the small familiar looking tattoo on her shoulder.  

Stiles stepped forward and carefully pulled the zipper up, “How am I supposed to act?”

Addie turned and looked at him with a flip of her hair.  “Proud.  You are meant to be proud of the position you are in.”  Her voice was quiet, almost sad.

His heart stuttered in his chest.  Lying to Peter was one thing, Addie said that he will see what he wants to see, but the Counselor wasn’t Peter.  “I don’t think I can do this.”  His voice was small, a whisper.

Lines deepened on either side of her mouth and she looked at the floor, her hair fell forward to hide part of her face.   Before he could say anything to her she flipped her hair back and stepped forward, putting her palms flat against his cheeks.

She didn’t say anything.  She didn’t have to.  The warmth from her hands leeched into his skin, calming his heartbeat and loosening the knot in his chest.

When he was calmer, she said, “You are smart, Stiles.”  She let go of him and ran her fingers over his hair.  “Trust your instincts, and all will be well.”

Stiles nodded and she stepped back.  She had helped him for this, trained him to lie.  He could do it.  And if he screwed up, at least the Counselor would be kind enough to kill only him instead of his whole family.

Addie hiked her dress up so she could shimmy out of her leggings, leaving them in a pile with her tank top on the floor.  The dress barely dragged on the floor as she went back to the closet and shoved her dresses to one side to show the full length mirror.  She grabbed the hair brush from the small shelf on the wall and dragged it through her hair.

Stiles turned, curiosity eating his gut, and peeked out of the curtain again. 

The betas were still in the snow, all standing now and looking so still that he’d be surprised if they dared to even breathe.  Peter was still shirtless against the cold air and the Counselor stood with his back to the house, next to the alpha looking at the betas.

“Stiles,” Addie said, making him jump a little and let the curtain fall back to cover the window.  “How do I look?”  She was smoothing the wrinkles out the dress over her stomach as she spoke.

She looked like she had when he had first met her.  At ease with everything around her, but now there was something more.   Ever since she first took his shoulders in an iron grip, he knew it, but now he knew why.  She was always hiding something from someone.  He said, “You look good.”

He’ll only need to worry if she’s hiding something from him.

She smiled widely, “Perfect.”  She stepped into a pair of simple black flats and offered her arm to Stiles.

He let her wrap her hand around his elbow just like she showed him to do and walked out of the room with her.  They were walking together, neither of them leading the other.

They were silent, calm, as they walked down the steps to the dining room, where the Counselor would be waiting.  Only the sound of Addie’s long red dress brushing along the floor and her shoes tapping broke their silence. 

Stiles focused on breathing evenly, his heart was just barely beating normally.

Despite what he told himself, that the Counselor would leave his family alone if he “messed up,” he was afraid. 

When it came down to it, even after every secret wish that Peter would just kill him and get it over with, the thought of dying terrified him.

He’d been through too much.  He’d been _put_ _through_ too much. 

He missed his family.  He wanted to go home so badly—

But as Addie walked with him down the stairs, slowly but surely, like royalty walking into court at their own pace, he realized something that made his heart beat steady.

Trust your instincts.  That’s what Addie had told him.

He was going to kill the alpha himself.  No one was going to take that from him. 

Addie had told him it before, telling him to wait for his opportunity to strike.  Trained him with the most basic self-defense.  But some small part of him never took it seriously.  Thought he could run and hide—but not anymore.  Things changed.

Addie glanced at him for a moment, probably hearing some change in his heartbeat or smelling some shift in his scent, but he didn’t look at her. 

When they reached the entry way, she gave his arm a little squeeze and stepped away, keeping a respectful distance between them.  The door opened and Peter’s face flashed in annoyance when the stranger strode in the house, leaving a trail of melting snow across the wood like he was the only alpha there.

Stiles relaxed his face into an easy-looking smile and watched as Peter’s annoyance vanished as quickly as it had appeared. 

The Counselor’s eyes skimmed over the grand entryway and flick to the sound of the door opening down the hall.  Before Stiles could look, Adelaide ran in front of him to press her face into Addie’s skirts as the high-ranked betas filed inside behind Peter.

“Counselor Smith,” Peter said with a surprising amount of paper-thin respect in his voice, “this is Stiles.”

Stiles nodded his head a bit, keeping his chin up, and Counselor Smith did the same with cold green eyes looking him up and down.  He said nothing. 

Counselor Smith’s expensive looking suit was perfectly tailored to make it seem like he never had to lift a finger in his life.  But he still gave off an air of dangerous power lurking right under the surface.

If this man was human, his teeth would have still been too sharp.

Peter spoke again, “This is my Second, Adrasteia.”  Addie gave a small bow, but didn’t tell him to call her Addie.

Then Peter turned to his daughter.  “Adelaide.”  Peter said sharply, making the little girl flinch. “Turn around, stop hiding.”  He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was like glass and her shoulders hunched, hiding behind Addie a little more.  Then she turned around and faced the stranger in her house with her head held ridiculously high. 

Despite the situation, she was pretty adorable and Stiles almost smiled for real.

Addie was watching him out of the corner of her eye and carefully trailing her fingers through Adelaide’s pretty brown curls as Stiles watched the Counselor be introduced to the higher ranked betas.  The older wolf’s eyes flicking to him every few seconds with an icy stare. 

The Counselor would be a problem, he could just tell.

He practically reeked right-wing conservatism, and if the daggers he was occasionally shooting at Stiles was anything to go by, he didn’t approve of Stiles’ presence.

When introductions were done, Peter, who still wasn’t wearing a shirt, held his arm out.   Before Addie even had the chance to direct him, he took the wolf’s arm.

Stiles let Peter lead him in the dining room for lunch.  His skin burned, but he walked beside Peter anyway.  

He played it up for the counselor walking in behind them, walking just close enough to Peter to feel the heat of his body through his clothes like he hadn’t just come inside from the cold winter air. 

He didn’t realize how hungry he actually was.  Stiles hadn’t eaten anything before Addie took him into her room, and his stomach twisted painfully like he’d gone days without food instead of a few hours.

They walked through the doorway in silence.  Stiles couldn’t see it, but he suspected the Counselor was looking around the house, taking note of the clean floors and cold walls as he was led into the dining room and passed beside the empty tables.

Peter sat first, pulling Stiles into his usual seat beside him.  The Counselor sat on Peter’s side, Addie sat beside Stiles with Peter’s daughter beside her.  When they were sitting, the rest of the betas filed in, the high-ranked ones sitting at one table, all together, and the rest carrying silver trays.

Some of the betas still had mud on their knees and melted snow on their backs, but they still brought trays of food in to set on the front table.  They must have rushed inside before Stiles and Addie came downstairs.

The short blonde girl curled her broken arm to her stomach; she balanced a tray of stacked with empty cups.

She looked rough.  The sleeve of her shirt was torn and patched in blood and melted snow, her hair was poorly smoothed back from the mess it had been in when she was on the ground, and her skin was pale and sickly looking.  Her bright blue eyes were dull and red rimmed, but there were no tear stains on her cheeks.

Pamela stood, holding a black shirt in her hands and approached the table.  Peter held his hand out to her and took the shirt she offered and waved her away as she bowed.  She went back to her seat as Peter was buttoning the shirt over his bare abs.

The betas rushed to put plates and cups in front of the group at the table before all but running to their seats.  Their heads weren’t bowed nearly as much as they were any other meal.  Maybe they assumed there wasn’t much Peter could do to them while the Counselor was there.

Like children misbehaving when strangers were around. 

Of course, it was a mistake.  The Counselor would leave eventually.

If he didn’t have all of them killed first.

Stiles was silent as Addie poured wine into his glass and Peter poured the Counselor’s drink for him.  The wolf was turning up the charm for the Counselor, and it seemed to be working.  Smith was nodding at what Peter was saying, too quiet for Stiles to hear.

When Addie sat his drink in front of him, she grabbed his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze before she sat back and cut into the slab of red meat on her plate.

Counselor Smith started to speak, quietly, like he was trying not to let Stiles hear, but the betas in front of him were nearly silent save for the scrape of knives and forks on glass plates, so his voice was clear enough to understand. 

“Alpha Hale,” the Counselor said, “You have quite a sizeable pack.  Where did you find so many strong young wolves?”  There was a smile in his voice, but Stiles didn’t risk looking over to see and let the man know he could hear.

Peter shifted, but Stiles didn’t look up from his potatoes, “They’re from all over the country.”  He said, “You’d be surprised how many young humans want to be more.”

The betas moved like a wave, not much, but enough to notice.  They had heard what their alpha said. 

They knew it was a lie.  They didn’t volunteer for this.

None of them did.

The Counselor went on like nothing happened.   “That doesn’t actually surprise me.”  He said, “Humans are inherently weak and want nothing more than our strength.”  That was a little louder, clearly meant for Stiles to hear, but he didn’t react.

“Well, Counselor,” Peter said, “You remember that hunter that killed my dear sister—”

“Careless.”  The Counselor said quickly, interrupting Peter.  “The Argents are a nuisance and the wolves they kill were obviously too careless to survive.”

Peter’s hand curled into a fist that was so tight his knuckles turned white on the arm of his chair.  Half a second later, his fist uncurled and there was blood on the tips of his fingers.

“What are you planning to do with such a large pack, Alpha Hale?”  The Counselor asked, either not noticing Peter’s reaction, or choosing to ignore it.

Peter didn’t say anything for a moment, probably trying to get control of the slightly too sharp claws on his fingertips.  “I just want a nice quiet life with my pack.”  He said, gently resting his hand on Stiles’ wrist.

At the contact, Stiles looked up, like he wasn’t listening to their conversation.  Counselor Smith was the only one looking at him, he smiled at the stern old face, trying to seem as innocent and carefree as possible before he turned back to his food and slowly drank his wine, watching the betas in front of him shoot covert glances at them.

Peter took his hand away as the Counselor said, “Well, I’ll be speaking with your betas individually, of course.”  Shifting in his seat, his suit jacket made a scratching sound against the back of the chair.

Stiles turned to Addie.  She was staring at the girl with short blond hair who was poking at the food on her plate with her body practically curling in on itself.  Addie’s eyes were dark and her fingertips covered the frown on her lips.

The rest of dinner passed in relative silence, and when they were done, Addie stood and subtly gestured for Stiles to do the same. 

He followed her lead and started to walk with her when the Counselor spoke, “Stiles,” he said, making the boy turn back.  He could feel Addie’s eyes on him, and Peter was glaring daggers at the Counselor’s back, “I’ll be speaking with you later tonight.”

Stiles gave a small smile and said, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”  The Counselor looked surprised before Stiles turned back to Addie, walking to where she was standing a few feet away and led her out of the dining room.

He could feel a pair of eyes on his back as he and Addie walked out of the dining room. 

When the door swung shut, Addie held up a finger to shush what he might have said, but she didn’t have to.  He wasn’t going to say anything when there was a roomful of wolves behind a wooden door.

They walked up the stairs in silence.  The only sound was their footsteps on the stairs.

She didn’t speak until they got to the top of the stairs.  “Excellent, Stiles.”  She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom, she pushed the door shut and cupped her palms against Stiles’ cheeks, her fingertips trembling a little before her cool skin touched his.  “You did so well.”  Her emerald green eyes were dark and unreadable, but she smiled at him.

He returned her smile and stepped out of her grip.  He couldn’t see her face when he moved to the bookshelf.  The shelves were now covered in the gifts the betas gave him and the small stack of books on the top shelf beside the Bestiary laptop.

The small snowglobe in the back of the shelf of knick-knacks caught his eye.  He hadn’t really paid any attention to what the gifts were when the betas sat their gifts on the stack that day. 

It looked like some little dollar store toy decoration, but he didn’t mind it.  The stack of miniature glittery, grinning jack o’lanterns stood on a black base that read “Happy Halloween” in glittering orange letters.

Stiles couldn’t help but smile as he looked at it.  He shook it, and watched tiny candy corn confetti “snow” fall around the pumpkins.  “So how much do we have to worry?”  He asked, carefully returning the little snow globe back to the shelf.

When Addie was silent, he turned.  She was staring at him with dark eyes and one hand wrapped around her elbow and the other resting against her lip, almost like she was chewing on her thumbnail before he looked at her.

She straightened when she saw him looking, her black hair flipping a little as she all but threw her arms to her sides, “Depends on what the betas tell him.”  She said in a rush, smiling a little, but he didn’t trust it.  “If they’re smart, they will listen to their orders and tell the Counselor exactly what he wants to hear.”

Stiles took the Codex off the shelf and opened it, leaning against the bookshelf and flipping through the pages of publisher information that looked a lot like what normal human books had in their beginning pages.  “How much do you know about Counselor Smith?”  He asked, tracing the little crescent moon on the top of the publisher’s page.

Addie took the bottle of wine off the table and filled his glass.  “Honestly, not enough to be of help.”  She held the glass out to him and he pushed away from the bookshelf to take the glass.  “Many members of the Council, including Counselor Smith, are secretive.”

“At this point,” Stiles said sitting on the edge of the bed with the wine glass held under his nose and the book on his lap, breathing deeply and already feeling the warm feeling in his skin from the wine, “How could any information be unhelpful?”

She just stared for a moment, waiting for him to take a drink or considering his statement, he didn’t know.  After a moment, she said, “he’s a sort of traditionalist.”  She dropped herself onto the chair by the bed with more grace than even a werewolf should have.  “He doesn’t like the idea of you knowing anything about us.”

“I could have told you that.”  He said, taking another big sip of her wine and setting the glass on the table as the warm feeling spread through his chest.  “What else do you know?”

“Not much,” she said, “the Council lives separate from our society.  No one knows much about them, except what they list in the Codex.”  She frowned, “No one who goes to meet them ever comes out to tell the tale.”

Stiles nodded and flipped a few pages in the Codex.  “So what do I do?”  He asked, looking up from the pages with letters that blurred together in front of his eyes.

Addie was twisting a long lock of black hair around her finger with a dark look in her eyes as she stared at the space beside him.  After half a second, she locked eyes with Stiles and quickly put her hands in her lap.  “When you speak with Counselor Smith, probably at dinner tonight,” she said, twisting her hands together, “Convince him you ran away with Peter.” 

Stiles nodded, but she continued anyway, “It will be easy.” She said slowly, “Trust your instincts.”

He nodded again and pulled his legs up in front of him with the book propped on his knees.  “Can you hear the Counselor?”  He wanted to know what kind of questions he was asking the betas.  Stiles could lie to a wolf now, but he wasn’t so sure about the younger betas in the pack. 

They could ruin everything they have set up in a simple conversation.

Addie shook her head.  “The bedroom is soundproof.”  She said, “When that door is closed, no one hears anything.”

Stiles blinked.  He was surprisingly relieved to hear that. 

The older betas downstairs would have heard what Peter did—everything that happened in the bedroom, and the thought of that made a sick wave of shame twist in his gut. 

He knew that all the betas could smell the stink of sex on his skin, no matter how hard he scrubbed his skin raw, he could see it in their eyes when they looked at him.  But having them _hear_ it was something else entirely. 

Before he learned to block out what was happening, all the times he cried and begged—

“How long until we know Counselor Smith’s decision?”  He asked slowly, stopping the thought before he could finish it.

Addie stared at him with a strange twist in her mouth before she spoke, “We won’t know until he leaves.”  She plucked the television remote off the bedside table.  “But for now, we are safe enough.”  She turned on the television and flipped to the Discovery Channel to stare at the pictures of galaxies and planets that were light years away from them with the sound turned down too low for him to hear.    

She was so still he would have thought she would have fallen asleep if her eyes weren’t open.

Stiles turned and slid up the bed so his back rested against the headboard. 

A little splotch of dark red on the inside of his wrist caught his eye.  He tried not to react as he used his thumb to scratch Peter’s blood off his skin.

Slowly, Stiles opened the book on his knees.  The front page had a simple black circle with the word “Codex” written in curvy black letters.  He shifted lower against the headboard and turned the page.

_“Law is reason, free from passion” – Aristotle_

There was no introduction, only that quote.   The next page was a table of contents, a small column of subjects that the laws were about: Council, Pack, Conduct, Humans, Magic, and Misc.

The next several pages were about the hierarchy of the Council.  The Council was a group of six wolves and a single King who had last say about all matters.  After a few pages of dense language describing the duties of the Council members, Stiles found himself drifting off. 

Addie shifted and Stiles’ attention snapped to her.  She turned to stare at the setting sun, “Dinner time.”  She said quietly.  “After the meal, the Counselor will leave.”  She stood and stretched her arms over her head like she drifted off when he did.  “We should go downstairs.”

It hadn’t felt that long, but the sun was sinking in the sky and his back was stiff from sitting against the head board.

Stiles nodded and almost sat the book on the bed beside him before Addie plucked it from his hands.  She took the pictures she took for him out of her sleeves and carefully put them between the pages of the book so they wouldn’t show.  She tucked the book in the gap between his other books, “Make sure Peter never finds those.”  She said seriously, still facing the bookshelf. 

He didn’t have to say anything.  He already knew it.  He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Peter found out he had them.

Addie turned with a wide smile, “Then let’s go.”

They walked in silence, preparing themselves for the meal they had to share with the Counselor. 

Too soon, he was downstairs, walking to the table beside Peter.  The alpha took him to his chair and sat in his usual spot.  Stiles expected the Counselor to sit beside Peter like he had before, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he appeared in front of Addie.  “You don’t mind, do you?”  He asked, more of a formality than a real question.  Addie barely hesitated before she bowed a little and moved to Peter’s side.  Stiles tried his best not to react as the Counselor sat beside him. 

The betas rushed forward and sat plates of food in front of them, looking more skittish and scared than they were before, and Stiles ate in silence without looking at the Counselor. 

He watched the betas at the tables in front of him eat—the older higher ranked betas in the pack who usually ate at the main table with Peter sat closest to the big table in the front, a small gap between them and the usual betas who sat at those tables.

“Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles turned to the Counselor beside him, watching the small army of betas with a dark smile on his old face, “Son of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills County, California.”  Counselor Smith turned his wolfish grin to Stiles, “Current mate of Alpha Hale of the Oregon pack.”

Something in the wolf’s voice when he said Current made Stiles think he was looking for some reaction from the boy, but Stiles only smiled through the feeling of disgust at the word mate.  “You know me?”  he asked coyly, playing dumb for the Counselor.

Smith nodded, “You were on the news for a long time.  Your family misses you very much.”

The words felt like a trap, so Stiles took a bite of the mashed potatoes on his plate as an excuse to look away.

The Counselor leaned forward, making Stiles turn to face him instead of letting him whisper in his ear.  “Be honest, human.”  Counselor Smith said quietly, almost too quiet for Peter to hear from his other side.

Stiles slowly put down his fork. 

This guy was some kind of Werewolf Fundamentalist.   He’s killed more than one human to protect this secret.  Whatever he had to say was a trap.

“If Alpha Hale is holding you against your will,” the Counselor said, his words like honey over a bear trap.  Stiles felt Peter shift at his side, but they didn’t say anything.  “I will fix your problem.” 

Stiles smiled, not missing a beat.  “Thank you for your concern.”  The Counselor’s words were nice, but they meant nothing to him.  If he told the Counselor that Peter had kidnapped him and wouldn’t let him go home, Stiles would be dead by morning.  He knew it.  “This is my pack now.”

They were words that Stiles knew Peter would like.  He could practically feel the smug aura about the alpha as Stiles spoke.

Counselor Smith watched him like a hawk for a long stretch of time before he leaned back, “A Human Mate.”  He said, taking a drink from the glass in front of him, “That is very unusual.”  He paused, like he was waiting for Stiles to defend his choices.  When he didn’t, the wolf continued, “Why hasn’t your Alpha bitten you yet?”

Stiles was proud of the fact that he didn’t flinch at the thought of Peter being his Alpha.  He would never have an alpha.  He smiled, but didn’t get the chance to say anything.

Peter spoke, “He doesn’t want the Bite.  He wants to stay human.”

Counselor Smith’s eyebrows rose, like the concept of wanting to be human was something he didn’t even consider.  He addressed Stiles again, like Peter didn’t speak, “Why would he listen to _you_?”

Stiles couldn’t stop the small almost-amused sound that escaped his throat.  His smile shrunk a little, “How would I know?”  He asked, trying not to sound too angry, “I’m not his keeper, I have no reason to know why he does the things he does.”

“And, of _course_ ,” Peter said quickly, “There are laws that must be followed.”

Stiles bit his tongue.  He almost messed up.  It was clear in Peter’s tone, but Addie hadn’t even blinked.

The Counselor froze for half a moment before he smiled widely, like it was all a joke, “Of course.”  He leaned back in his seat fully, “Maybe Stiles ought to learn the law he’ll have to follow.”  The comment was biting, almost petulant.  Like the Counselor was angry with him, but Stiles had authority over him, so he couldn’t say too much.

It made Stiles wonder how much power Peter had given him over other wolves.

Stiles slowly drank his wine, the calming warm feeling spreading through his chest and calming his mind and making time slip through his fingers.

Soon enough, dinner was done and Stiles was walking beside Peter and Addie with the Counselor beside Peter, saying how he would report back to the King and send a letter with his report.

The Counselor had the door open, letting in freezing cold air that made goosebumps rise on Stiles’ arms under his soft shirt. 

Counselor Smith was leaving, his back was to them, the door almost shut, when he turned back, “I’ll be watching this pack very closely over the next few months.”

Then he was gone, without so much as a goodbye.  Stiles would have been offended if he felt anything other than relief at the wolf’s leaving.

Stiles tried not to jump as strong arms encircled his shoulders, “You did very well, Stiles.”  Peter said before there were lips on his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to rape in the middle bit, and non-con kissing at the end. (remember to read the end notes for chapter specific warnings) and if I'm remembering the next chapter correctly, there's gonna be explicit non-con in chapter 24.
> 
> Woah has it been a while. You get a nice long chapter to make up for it. I’m sorry.  
> I didn’t have this chapter beta read, so as usual all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I have no idea when chapter 24 will come… Hopefully the next gap won’t be so bad, but we’ll have to see how it goes.  
> Thanks for reading :D


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/30/15

Waking up alone in the morning was a small miracle.  A brief respite from the games he had to play when people are around.

Well, “people” might be a strong word, but the sentiment was the same.

But he had to get up.                                                            

Addie told him that he should start training that day to make him less vulnerable.  He’d wanted to, of course, but now his body felt drained.  Like he hadn’t just woken up from hours of sleep.

He sighed and pushed himself up, stretching his back and looking out the window, frowning at the muted sunlight filtering through the clouds.  The circle of the sun could be seen through the clouds, higher than it should be.  He’d slept late.

Shaking his head, he grabbed the remote from the bedside table.  Addie had left him a glass of wine sometime when he was sleeping.  She had probably brought it with her when she had come to wake him up, but let him sleep instead.

Stiles didn’t drink the wine yet, just held it against his chest as he turned on the television to the news.

It was later than he usually watched this station, so the important stories had already been told.   Now it was some fluff piece about the fireworks that were going to happen for New Years later that evening. 

He stared at the smiling blonde woman for a long moment without hearing her words.

Christmas—with all its hollow happiness—came and went. 

And he didn’t even notice.

Even before Peter took him here, the holidays were always hard for him—But the same could be said for any person who lost a family member.  He still tried hard to make the holidays fun for his dad and for Scott and for Mrs. McCall.

He always was the one who set up the tree with Mrs. McCall, his dad and Scott watched—their families have done Christmas together since he and Scott were babies—and they picked one of their houses to make dinner on Christmas Eve and stay together for Christmas, even though they lived across the street.  On Christmas Day they ate together and exchanged presents, ate the dinner that they made together…

Stiles took a deep breath, pushing past the ache around his heart and taking a long drink from the glass in his hands until it was empty and his chest felt looser.

He needed to remember that he was getting out of the house… He would not miss another holiday.

Stiles stood and walked to the bathroom, showering before he Addie would come to lead him downstairs into the basement for training.  He didn’t know what that would entail exactly, but he was ready to learn to protect himself.

After scrubbing himself as close to clean as he could get, he stepped out of the shower, ignoring the way his skin pebbled in the chilly air. 

Werewolves ran hot, but they really should turn the heat up for the token human.

He quickly dried off and dressed in what Addie told him the night before—loose, but not too loose, sweat pants and a simple tee-shirt—he left the bathroom and found Addie sitting in her usual chair by the bed with a simple dark pink dress that wasn’t nearly as billowy as her usual dresses.

She looked up when he entered the room.  “Moring,” she said, standing up.  “Gideon is waiting.”  The woman didn’t wait for him to say anything as she walked out of the bedroom.

Stiles knew the layout of the house well enough now to not need an escort through the floors, but something about her presence was comforting for him.  He knew she would protect him until he could protect himself, so he followed.

“You will train until lunch.”  She said, “I know that seems like a long time, but you slept in much later than we anticipated.”  Her tone was distant and emotionless, like she was chastising him, but he knew she wasn’t.

“You could have woken me up.”

“I could have.”  The corner of her mouth lifted in a smile and her voice was light again, “You had a long week.”  She paused, “Consider it a Christmas present.” There was a dark current under her words.

He said nothing.  There wasn’t really anything he could say.

When they got to the ground floor and started winding through the halls to get to the training room door, Addie started talking again, “Your legs are your greatest asset, Stiles.”  She said, like she was trying to fill the silence between them.  “We need to teach you how to use them.  You can have your hands free for other things.”  She paused then added quickly, like an afterthought, “Like shooting a gun.”

Stiles was spared from answering her when a voice piped up from in front of them, “Careful now, you’re stealing my job.”  Gideon was leaning against the doorway to the training room.  His short hair was dull under the low light and his clothes almost matched Stiles’ own dark workout clothes.

Addie stopped a few feet away and folded her arms, “Well someone has to do it.”  Her teasing was just a tad too sharp to be considered joking, but Gideon either didn’t hear it or didn’t care as he gestured for them to follow as he walked down the steps.

“But she’s right.  You’re legs are you’re strongest asset.”  Gideon said as he stomped down the stairs, his steps echoing around the empty room.  “However, you need to learn how to fight properly,” he got to the bottom step and led them to a heavy looking punching bag hanging from the ceiling.  “So you’ll start on the bag until you can spar with one of us without dying.”

Before he could say anything, Addie spoke over him, “Perhaps instead of insulting the mate of your Alpha, you could teach him.  Like you were told.”  Her voice was hard and cold.

Gideon smiled, “Well he is only human,” He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Then he turned to Stiles with his slightly wide eyes the only thing betraying his worry, “Not that werewolves could always win in a fight, I don’t mean any disrespect.”  When Stiles raised his eyebrows, Gideon continued, “I’m sure you could take Addie soon enough.”

Addie and Stiles only looked at each other for a moment.

Gideon was met with silence, and he shook his head, “Anyway,” he walked to the other side of the bag, making a show of making a fist like Stiles didn’t know how to make a proper fist.  “We’re gonna work on teaching you the basics.”

Stiles spent the next few hours punching and kicking the bag until his knuckles started to bleed from tiny cuts on his skin and his legs burned and he was covered in sweat.  Gideon was mostly silent, watching him and offering bits of advice as Addie sat by the stairs, just as quiet, and smiled at him.

He threw as many punches with as much force as he could muster for as long as he could.  It took him out of his head for a while.  It let him forget the wolves staring at his back.

Addie stood and said, “Time for lunch.”  She said, her voice was quiet, like she was deep in thought.

Gideon didn’t say anything as he walked up the steps and left them alone in the room.  When he was gone, Addie stepped over to him.  “You did well.”  Stiles said nothing as she picked up his hand, looking at the bruises and tiny cuts on his skin.  “We can heal that later.”  She looped her hand around his arm.  “After lunch, you can change.”

Stiles said nothing. He wasn’t hungry. 

His muscles burned and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time in weeks.  It made him want to stay down in the training room, punching and kicking the bag with everything he had until he collapsed on the floor.

He let Addie pull him along up the stairs to walk to the dining room in silence.  

Peter wasn’t there, but the betas had already started to eat.  When he sat in the usual spot at the front table, Addie poured him wine and he drank it to soothe his too quick breaths.

When his breath returned to normal and his limbs stopped trembling from exhaustion, Addie turned to him, “Peter is working in his office.”  She said, speaking so low that he had to lean over to hear her, “perhaps you should talk to him.”  The eye roll was strong in her voice, even if she kept her face steady.

“Oh?”  He asked quietly, matching her low voice so the other betas wouldn’t hear him.

Addie only nodded and leaned away, straightening her back when she noticed Pamela staring. 

He ate slowly, more to buy time than to taste the food they sat in front of him, but lunch still ended too soon and the betas took the plates and cups and disappeared.  Addie stood and Stiles followed her out of the dining room.

When they were alone in the hallway, she turned and gave him a little nod in the direction of Peter’s office and continued on her way up stairs.

Stiles thought about going upstairs to change his clothes, but the Peter told him that he smelled good.  The dried sweat on his skin would probably make the wolf crazy. 

He took a deep breath, stopping the skip in his heart beat before it could get out of hand.  Peter could probably hear his heartbeat from his office down the hall. 

Maybe he’d just think Stiles was excited to see him.

The boy straightened his shoulders and strode down the hall, looking happier and more confident than he felt.  The slight pangs of soreness already forming in his muscles cleared his mind with every step.

The house was silent and still as he walked, steady steps the only sound as he approached the office.  He didn’t know what exactly Addie had wanted him to see Peter for. 

He’d gone many days, blissful in a sick kind of way days, where the only time he saw the wolf was in the bedroom, there must be something she wanted him to know, but he didn’t know what, exactly.

When the Counselor was asking Peter those questions the day before, the ones he asked as the Pack watched with silence and fear—

Stiles didn’t actually _know_ what Peter was gathering all these betas for.

Maybe Addie thought it was time to figure it out.

The office door was closed when Stiles reached it.  He knew Peter could hear him.  The wolf was probably waiting for the knock.  So Stiles squared his shoulders and tapped on the door.

Barely half a second later, Peter called out “come in” and Stiles pushed open the door with a little smile. 

Peter was sitting at his desk, back straight and folded papers in hand.  He waved his hand a little, his face a little softer than it would have been if it were one of the betas as he beckoned Stiles into the room. 

Stiles closed the door behind him and went to sit on the same chair he sat in before as Peter went back to the paper in his hands.   The sun hidden behind the clouds wasn’t bright enough to light up the room, so the small lamp on Peter’s desk was turned on, probably for Stiles’ benefit.  Peter’s office looked the same as it had all the other times he was in it, no book out of place, no speck of dust on any of the shelves.

The betas that Peter makes clean this office are very thorough.

“’After much deliberation,’” Peter said, reading off the paper with a little, self-satisfied smirk on his face.  “’the Counsel has chosen to allow your pack to flourish.’”  He rolled his eyes and threw the paper into the bin beside his chair.  “Idiots.”

Stiles wiped his palms along his pant legs.  “I’ve been thinking,” he started, “About what the Counselor said.”

Peter looked at him with his hands folded on the desktop.   “What, specifically, were you thinking about, Stiles?”

“He asked about what you were going to do with your pack.”  Stiles said in a rush, “What actually are you planning?” 

The wolf smiled at him.  “well, Stiles—”

There was a sharp rap on the door, harsh and loud in the quiet, making Stiles jump.

“Come in,” Peter said.

Pamela didn’t even wait for the words to be said completely before she threw the door open, “Alpha,” she said, “I’ve found another one.”  Her eyes pierced into Stiles’ skin, harsh and angry. 

If looks could kill, he’d have been dead ages ago.

“Stiles,” Peter said, sitting up straighter in his chair and glancing at him before giving his full attention to Pamela.  “Go upstairs and wait for me.”

He only hesitated a moment before he stood, Peter was expecting him to move as soon he gave the order. 

Best not disappoint. 

Pamela gave him a little smug look as he walked past her, but he ignored her.

As soon as Stiles crossed the threshold of Peter’s office, Pamela slammed the door behind him so quickly it almost hit him.

Annoyance spread through him like wildfire.  He knew she could hear what he’d asked Peter, and chose to come in at that moment. 

He forced himself to move, to walk away from the office and up the stairs without running. 

He should probably see Addie.  If nothing else, he could report back to Addie that Pamela was a bitch.

It wasn’t a long walk up the stairs to Addie’s room, and her door was slightly ajar when he approached.

She stood when she saw him in the doorway, waving him in.  “What did Peter say?”  Addie asked, closing the door softly behind him.  She moved back to her low table and pointed to the spot across from her for Stiles to sit at. 

Her room smelled like sugar and sparks.  “I asked about his plans,” Stiles said picking up a little dark green dried sprig of some kind of herb with long thin leaves.  “But Pamela interrupted me.  She had to ruin everything.”  White hot anger curled through his belly at her name. 

Addie looked up from the twigs she was arranging at his tone.  “Do not get angry, Stiles,” she said, leaning back to pull a bottle of wine and fill a glass for Stiles to drink.  She waited until she saw Stiles drink before returning to her work.  “You can ask him later.”

“Don’t you know what his plans are?”  Stiles asked, leaning back and drinking from his glass.

Addie paused, more like a nervous tic, at his words.  “Some.”  She said dropping some stems into the bin beside the table.  “But I am not told everything.”

Stiles nodded and tipped the wine glass back until it was empty.  “What are you doing?”  he asked.

She pulled leaves from one of the twigs and tossing the stem in a small pile, “An oil.”  She said, picking up the small bowl from the table.  “For anointing.  It brings guidance.”  She got an almost sad look on her face as she twirled the smooth stone pestle between her fingers, “I’ve been needing it lately.”  She dropped the pestle into the mortar with a loud clang, “Do you want to help?”

Stiles nodded and she smiled, “The first step is to grind sage leaves into small pieces.”  She handed the cool stone to Stiles. 

When he began to crush the leaves, Addie spoke again, “This is all about intent.”  Her voice was low and calm as she spoke, “you have to know what you want as you make this, even if it is something as simple as ‘Guidance’.”

He paused in his crushing.  What did he want to find guidance in? 

A part of his mind thought that he wanted to know when he could go home, but there was a louder voice in his ear.  Stronger and darker than he thought possible of himself.

He wanted to know when he would kill that dog.  When he could see the life drain from his eyes and the alpha’s blood spread on the carpet.  How he could do it without worry that he wouldn’t finish the job and risk his family.

His hand moved without conscious permission.  He ground the leaves into a flaky powder with all the anger he’d kept bottled up, and without his noticing, Addie had begun grinding her own leaves, much calmer and more thoroughly than Stiles had.

“Next,” Addie said, setting their mortars on the table, “mix in a little lavender and rosemary, for protection and purity.”  She handed him a few thin leaves and dry purple flowers to crush into dust.

He dropped them in just like she did, slowly, one at a time, thinking of when he could kill Peter and get out of this house. 

Addie picked up a very small glass bowl, barely bigger than a thimble and set it in front of Stiles just like she had in front of her, “The next part is easy,” she said, picking up a small cup from a hot plate in one hand and pinching two bits of crushed leaves into the thimble bowl.  Then she carefully dripped a few drops of yellow oil on the leaves.

She waited until Stiles pinched two bits of leaves into his bowl like she did before she filled his thimble bowl of oil.  “Mix.  It is important to use the right finger,” She said, holding up her hand, palm to him.  She wiggled her thumb, “Luck,” she said.  Then she wiggled her pinkie, “Promise,” then her ring finger, “Love,” then her middle finger, “Emotion,” lastly, her index finger, “guidance and protection.”  She used her index finger to swirl her oil, so Stiles followed her lead.

“This is meant to be a potion you put on your skin, Stiles.”  She said, letting oil drip off her finger into the bowl.  She held up her other arm, “think about what area you want to be guided in and drag the oil lengthwise across your wrists.”

With her index finger, she dragged a line of oil across her skin, and gave her other wrist the same treatment.  So Stiles followed suit.  He thought about Peter’s hands on his body and anger twisted his belly as he traced his oil along his skin.

“The most important part, Stiles,” Addie said, dipping more oil on her finger, “Is the Eye.”  She tapped her forehead with the oil, holding it there for a second before dragging three little lines down from the dot.  She turned a little book on the table and showed him the symbol she was drawing.  It looked like sunrays shining down on her eyes.

So Stiles followed her lead again, drawing the tiny sunrays onto the middle of his forehead too.  

“It is as simple as that.”  Addie said, dropping the rest of the herbs into a small bowl on the ground.  “I would explain more, but Peter is on his way upstairs.”

She took Stiles’ mortar bowl and dumped the crushed herbs in the bin.  The door opened without a knock.  “There you are.”  Peter said, walking into Addie’s room.  The wolf looked around Addie’s room as he stood beside the table and said, “Adrasteia, why are you teaching Stiles these things?”

“It is important he learn to protect himself in any way he can.”  She said, brushing the twigs into the bin, “Especially this way.”

Peter picked up Stiles’ small bowl and sniffed it, “What does it do?”  he asked.

“A simple potion of protection.”  Addie said quickly.

With a little hum, Peter sat the little bowl back in front of Stiles.  Without any warning, the wolf pulled the boy to his feet.  Addie didn’t react very much, didn’t even look up from her tidying as Peter kept his hand around Stiles’ elbow. 

“I’ll be away for a few days,” Peter told them both in a quick breath, “I’m leaving as soon as possible.”

Addie’s fingers tensed slightly, but she looked up at Peter with a closed lip smiled, “alright,” she said, going back to her work.

Stiles didn’t react.  He didn’t fight against the tug on his arm that pulled him to the door.  He had already begun trying not to feel the warm hands on his skin—

Before Stiles and Peter disappeared through her door, Addie tapped her temple with a little tired look. 

Peter led him up the steps by the elbow to the bedroom.  Stiles focused on his breathing, focusing on the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest from the wine instead of Peter leading him to bed.

When the wolf opened the door, he gestured for Stiles to go in first.

Stiles didn’t hesitate as he moved to the bed, pulling his jacket off and tossing it to the chair Addie usually sits in.  Better to get it over with as soon as possible.

“Pamela found a new Beta.”  Peter said, sitting beside him on the bed, “I’ll be leaving as soon as we’re done.”

Stiles ignored the tickle of fingers on the back of his neck.  “Why do you need so many betas?”

Peter pulled his shirt over his head and Stiles didn’t react.  There was almost instant regret about asking that question now.  Focusing on the beating of his heart and blocking out the… the feeling of Peter—

“The Counsel is foolish,” Peter said, sniffing along Stiles’ shoulders.  “And shortsighted.”

Stiles turned away from Peter as the wolf took off his pants, not bothering to remove his shirt.  Peter would be in a rush to leave with Pamela, too much of a hurry to get them fully naked.

“I need such a large pack, Stiles,” Peter said, pushing Stiles onto his belly rough enough to make Stiles bounce a little as Peter pulled his loose pants down to his ankles, “to kill the Counsel.”

Stiles didn’t make a sound, he didn’t move a muscle, he let Peter use him as he liked.  It took all the will in his body not to let the nausea twisting his stomach as Peter’s hands locked over Stiles’ wrists and pushed inside him in the same movement.

A sick part of him was glad he was… _kept loose_.  Made this faster, but _God_ it hurt.  It made Stiles cry out in pain as he squeezed his eyes shut, fisted the pillows, and hid his sounds in the soft feather pillow.  He tried to focus on the warm fuzzy feeling of the wine in his chest, but Peter moved against him.  He couldn’t block out the sound of the wolf breathing in his ear, or the flesh hitting flesh as Peter thrust—

“Humans will be at our _whim_.”  Peter panted in Stiles’ ear, out of breath.  He already sounded close. 

Good.

“I’ll rule them all.”  The thrusts became harsher, more erratic, moving Stiles’ whole body with the force of them.

Stiles buried his face in the pillow harder.  He couldn’t keep the tears back, Peter either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the sob-like quality to the choked breaths Stiles let out.

He hated the way his body was reacting to this.  

It was too hot and he couldn’t breathe, but he was thankful when Peter took him in hand.  It would be over in seconds after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Explicit Non-Con
> 
> I'm not sure if I'm happy with this chapter, but it wasn't beta read, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Keep an eye out in a little while for a surprise :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/31/15-1/1/16

_It felt like there were two hot bindings across his wrists as Stiles opened his eyes._

_But he couldn’t see anything._

_Blind panic laced through his chest.  He couldn’t move.  His arms were locked, held a little away from his body, wrists facing forward and hands clenched into tight fists._

_The air was both too cool and too hot, still and wild at the same time, dark and light, filled with electricity and empty.  It was a contradiction._

_This had to be a dream.  The darkness was too thick.  It was like he was blind._

_It felt like he was chained to the air around him from the burning across his wrists, and the itch in the middle of his forehead turned to a burn.  It felt like his forehead was on fire—_

_And Peter’s smug face appeared in front of him, surrounded by fog.  The wolf’s hair was longer than it was now and his clothes were dark and unassuming.  Blood caked on his neck and fingertips._

_The place almost looked like a white room that stretched on for eternity in all directions._

_People appeared around him, surrounding Stiles while he was still trapped in place, but none acknowledged him.   Stiles tried to focus on them from the corner of his eyes, but the more he tries to look, the more distant and fuzzy they became._

_Another person appeared over Peter’s shoulder.  His body was out of focus, but it was Stiles’ face.  It looked like he wasn’t wearing a shirt, he was covered in dirt and dried blood.  But his expression was fierce._

_Stiles started to shake, trembling against the black fog bindings on his wrists._

_Peter looked at him.  He smiled, a genuine one full of victory._

_Then, without warning, his skin split apart like the surface of the desert and the smile vanished._

_Deep lines cut through the wolf’s face, blood red and all over his skin.  It took an infinite second for fire to catch in the cuts, burning an unnatural silvery white and gold._

_He could smell the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh, mixed with burning sugar and sparks as the wolf opened his mouth and howled out a scream that made Stiles’ skin turn icy cold._

_Peter fell to the ground in front of him, turning into a pyrequickly, like his body was dried wood and newspaper.   The flames were nearly as tall as he was._

_The other Stiles stared at the burning body with a look of fierce determination to see this through._

_His eyes reflected the silver and gold fire._

He gasped, bolting into a sitting position on the bed with a strangled yell and flailing arms.

Stiles couldn’t breathe.  The smell of burning flesh stuck in his nose as he took gasping breaths of cold air, too much too fast, he was going to hyperventilate.

He turned, clutching the edge of the empty bed in a white-knuckled grip as he tried to slow his racing heart.  His head was already feeling fuzzy.  The wolf was still screaming in his ears—

Stiles pulled himself out of bed, fumbling to pull his pants back up as he struggled to remain upright. 

He couldn’t breathe as he stumbled into the bathroom, falling to his knees on the tiles without even closing the door. 

He couldn’t even really vomit.  He simply knelt in front of the toilet, dry heaving and choking on air until his stomach burned.

He tried to focus on the cold material on his trembling fingertips, but it was too much.  Sweat covered his skin.  All he could hear was the screaming, all he could smell was the burning, all he could see was fire.

Addie wasn’t going to help him through it this time.  He needed to get himself under control.

When Stiles’ muscles burned too bad to even let him heave anymore, he pulled himself up, leaning heavily on the counter. 

Thick red lines on the hallows of his wrists caught his eye.  With trembling fingers, he traced along the welts that were still warm from agitation, right along the paths of the oil on his skin. 

Stiles clumsily turned the knob on the sink, making the water as cold as possible and stuck his hands into the spray.  After a second, it made his hands sting from the ice in the water.  It focused him, made the tremors from the panic turn to shivers from the cold. 

His heartbeat slowed, his breath came in gasps that didn’t breach hyperventilation. 

Still fast, but better.

Very slowly, when the burn in his stomach soothed to an intense ache, Stiles looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Tired, sweaty, and pale, mouth slightly agape as he panted.  That was expected.  But the black lines in the middle of his forehead surprised him.  Like burnt sunrays down the middle of his forehead.

His skin was tacky with sweat as he wiped at the marks.  Ash.  It smeared off his skin and stunk like burnt sugar—or maybe burnt hair. 

The water was freezing as he brought a palm full to scrub the ash off his skin.  His forehead tingled like it burned him as the ash ran down the sink’s drain. 

Stiles’ movements were sluggish and a little fumbling as he turned off the icy water.  His heart was still beating fast, but he was drained like he’d run a marathon.  He slowly made his way back to the room, leaning on the wall to help him make it to sit on the rumpled bed.

The room was quiet.

To fill the silence, Stiles grabbed the TV remote that was in the same place he left it.  There was no wine waiting for him this time.  No matter how much he might want it now.

“And on a happier note,” said the chipper voice from the television, “the New Year is mere minutes away, and the fireworks are being prepared as we speak—”

The newscaster was still talking, but Stiles didn’t hear her.  Unlike Christmas, he liked most other holidays.  The ones that weren’t constant reminders of the family he’d lost. 

Since his dad’s the sheriff, he would have had to supervise the firemen and deputies set up the fireworks at the lacrosse field.  Assuming there wasn’t a drought that made the grass covered field like a field of matcheads. 

Most of the town showed up there.  It was a real party.  There was music, people brought food, there was laughing and some people danced.  It was a great time. 

After his mother died, Scott would always go with him.  Always.  His mother too, if she wasn’t working.

Stiles perched on the edge of the bed ignoring all his aches and pains as he stared out the window into the darkness.  He could see the tops of the trees in the silvery moonlight, the shadows thick and dark in the light of the moon—it’d be full in a day or two.

He wondered what Scott was going to do with Stiles… here.  He hoped he went to see the fireworks.  Scott used to love them as much as Stiles did. 

He wondered if, now that Scott was a werewolf, he’d be afraid of the fireworks.  A little laugh was startled out of him at the thought. 

The laugh was short lived and the vice grip around his heart tightened.  God he missed his family.

The sadness quickly turned to anger that boiled his blood.  He hated this.  He wanted to tip the bookcase, break the baubles that were given to him, put holes in the walls, and rip the bed apart—

But he couldn’t dwell on that too long.  What good would it do?

Fire crept into the edges of his vision like burning tunnel vision.  The smell of flaming flesh and burnt sugar filled his nose.  Stiles rubbed at the tingle in the center of his forehead and held his breath until his vision settled and the room returned to the normal plain smell that was tinged with the stink of sweat.

He was only a human, Peter was a werewolf—and an alpha no less.  Stiles had only _just_ started to learn how to properly fight and defend himself.  Any chance of winning a physical fight between him and the wolf was impossible.

It’s not that Stiles would particularly _mind_ if Peter killed him.  Part of him would prefer that, in fact.

But Peter was not that merciful.

If he tried and failed to kill Peter, the wolf might just kill his family as a punishment. 

The stakes are high for him to not fuck it up.

So if he can’t win in a fight with fists or a knife that Peter would take from him, the only way he can win this battle is with a gun.

Guns are kept in the armory.  There wasn’t one on the top floor, but the others weren’t that far away.  Weren’t that hard to steal a gun from the lower floors.  Maybe he’d take the gun that he was given as a gift. 

That would be a nice use of those damn gifts.

But the betas are loyal to Peter.  The Guards posted at the gate wouldn’t just let him _leave_.  They would kill him without hesitation if Peter was dead.  They would need to be either distracted or dead. 

He can’t get them all alone. And most of them were like Stiles was—forced into a bad situation.

And it’s not like Stiles can expect them to help him anyway.  Peter was their alpha.  There were a few betas that he could tell preferred Stiles.  Addie would say that they were loyal to him.

But Stiles is a human.  Without Peter, there would be no alpha. 

So he’d need outside help.  From some other pack that’s not loyal to Peter. 

But Stiles doesn’t know any other packs. 

Even if he did, they probably would end up dead if they weren’t loyal to Peter—

An explosion interrupted his thoughts, and the dark room illuminated with red light that was gone as quickly as it came.  There was a shimmer of sparks in the air far over the trees.  It was fairly far away, the noise echoed in the distance, but it still seemed to cover the whole dark sky in flashes of color.

The explosions let Stiles calm his mind.

Stiles can’t fail when he kills Peter.

If he fails, Peter might decide to punish Stiles by killing his father in front of him like he killed that nurse.

Another firework, this one blue, exploded in the sky. 

With every loud boom, Stiles stopped thinking.  Instead, he focused on the clammy feeling of drying sweat and the booms that he could feel in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Panic Attacks, Nightmares
> 
> Happy new Year’s all :D 
> 
> This was not beta read, so as usual, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> There will be a fairly large time jump between this chapter and chapter 26. I wanted to move the story along, we won’t miss much (plot wise) but there will be a few stories that I might publish separately. The one I have planned so far is about little Adelaide and Stiles. Additional stories will be posted separately from this main fic in the Castle in the Clouds series, so keep an eye out there for side fics :)

**Author's Note:**

> A note about tags and pairings: Sterek will take a while, and everyone after the OC’s will take a while to show up too. I didn’t want to tag slow build because it’s not really. The “action” will happen quite frequently. But everyone else is slow build. 
> 
> I will try to get updates out fairly frequently, but I don’t know how often this will be updated. This is my first Teen Wolf fic, and Constructive Criticism is welcome.
> 
> My Tumblr: ashley-vh.tumblr.com


End file.
